Somewhere Between
by TresMaxwell
Summary: John tags along on a case that changes everything, including him. HB must reevaluate what he wants from John and if they have a chance together. Movie Based. M/M, explicit sex, violence, gore COMPLETE
1. Blood and Guts

TITLE: Somewhere Between

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Hellboy, John, or any of these characters, I just had a random urge to take them out to play…  
This is going to switch between HB and John's perspectives, they'll be marked like below.

Also, I must thank the lovely gbheart for both editing this story and helping the British characters be more British and not just my American wannabe Brits :).

- HB

We'd only shared one kiss before it happened. Actually, it really couldn't be called a kiss. It was clumsy and sloppy 'cause I was treading in unfamiliar territory and he was too damn nervous to be much help. Despite all that, it was still one hell'uva kiss. Course, John being the way that he is, he dismissed it as me trying to get his goat and we haven't talked about it since.

I can tell John wants to ask me what was going through my head when I did it, but just can't get up the gall. He's curious by nature, but you can always tell when he doesn't really want to hear the answer to something. Thing is, I don't know what I'd tell him if he did ask. I mean, I thought I loved Liz and I thought she loved me, but after the fickle broad left for the thirteenth, or maybe even fourteenth time (who keeps track), I realized that it wasn't me she kept coming back for. Liz comes to the bureau to feel safe… from herself.

Don't get me wrong, I'm still crazy about the girl and I would do anything for her. We grew up together, but I think we had more fights while we were dating than we did before. It seemed like everything I did got under her skin like a damn bug. I couldn't do anything right for her. It's kind of funny 'cause John was always the one trying to patch things up.

Anyway, once she was gone again I got kind of pissed off at everything for a while. Abe said I was 'acting like a two-year-old who'd been denied sweets'. I don't know, maybe I was, but Abe always has to be so damn straightforward about everything. You'd think he could cut a guy a break and phrase things a little nicer.

Thing is, this time Liz didn't go back to an asylum. Maybe something changed while we were in Russia. It's like she's found this strength that nobody knew she had. This time, Liz left our freak show to live out there. When I last checked on her, she had a boyfriend… I should pop a bullet in that bastard's head and drag her back where she belongs, but, instead, I'm kissing John.

Somewhere between him trying so damn hard to be my friend and taking care of me, Boyscout got real cute. I guess I really started noticing once Liz was gone. That kind of makes him sound like a rebound… Boyscout is not a rebound, I think he's always piqued my interest, but I was too wrapped up in the idea of Liz and I. I've always had a weird urge to protect the squirt, but it could be because he always seems to get in so much trouble. From the first damn day he started work with us, he's been in trouble constantly.

Boyscout really isn't inclined to let me work the way I want to. Cute though it is that he thinks he needs to charge into battle next to me, it isn't good for his health. Although, it doesn't matter how many times I tell him that I work alone. As cute as it may be, it's his 'go get 'em' attitude that landed us in our current situation. He's bleeding like a stuck pig in the back of the BPRD garbage truck and I'm about as helpful as a sword in a gunfight.

Werewolves of all things, why the hell did we have to go after werewolves? And why did they make a den so damn close to a big city? Of course they're going to send us into a werewolf den, especially when the damn idiots start eating people nearby. You'd think they could just arm a few FBI guys with silver and save the big guns for demon infestations or open rifts to hell. I mean, seriously, sure werewolves are dangerous, but when you know how to handle them, they're really nothing compared to a lesser demon or Samael. That beast was a bitch and half.

Point is, you have to know how to move through a wolf's den and John had no clue. Didn't stop him from charging in with the rest of us. He managed to hold his own for a while. I know I don't give Boyscout much credit, but he really is a pretty good fighter for a human. But a lot of times, being human in this Bureau is what gets you killed. You have to be able to survive some serious punishment and keep walking.

We weren't through half the pack when a big bastard came out of nowhere and knocked John to the floor. He had his teeth in Boyscout's gut before I got a shot off. Werewolves are quick, but I should have been faster. I should have been paying closer attention to John. Abe and another agent carried him off while I finished off the rest of the stragglers and ran back to the truck. It was under the fluorescent lights that I could finally see how bad it was. Myers was screaming bloody murder while Abe carefully replaced his organs. It was too bad I'd already killed those furry fuckers, 'cause I really wanted to rip one limb from limb.

Abe looked up at me with an expression I haven't seen since Dad died and told me that John was heavily infected with the lycanthrope virus. Was? Hell, is. We haven't even gotten back to base yet. I want to do something for the squirt, but Abe slaps my every move away. He's gone into attentive doctor/nurse mode and doesn't want me to aggravate John's condition in any way. Like I could make lycanthropy any worse, but Blue is boss in these situations. I put my hand on John's shoulder and Abe allows it. It's better than nothing.

"You know what will happen to him," Abe mentions, catching my attention.

My head snaps up and I all but growl at him, "Not all wolves are dangerous. He could be docile."

Abe sighs and checks John's vitals, his hands hovering over his pulse points and chest. He talks as he tends Boyscout, "There's a standard probability that a wolf will become a man-eater, which increases anytime he tastes human flesh. It is very similar to the cases in tigers, lions, and even bears. Many carnivores have developed the tendency to be man-eaters. There have been numerous recorded cases in Kumaon and…"

I cut him off, "We're talking about Myers here Abe! When has he ever done anything rude without apologizing, let alone something vicious?"

"Well," Abe starts. I can tell he's finding the best way to phrase whatever he's about to say, probably to smooth my reaction. "Manning won't be pleased to let him roam around free."

Aka, he'll either want him dead or caged up like some animal. My lip curls at the thought. Manning and I have been getting along pretty well since Russia. I think we've finally come to an understanding: he stays out of my way and I try a little harder not to make his job more difficult. He owes me after I saved his life. Maybe he'll let me keep John under my care. Reverse the roles, I guess. Knowing the way the Bureau works, they'll probably haul John away and just stick me with a new babysitter. Like I need watching. I can't help but snort at the idea.

Boyscout shifts under my hand with a pained whimper. Sweat has broken out all across his face.

"He's developing a high fever," Abe tells me unnecessarily.

I can feel the heat of his skin coming through his shirt. Blood is still spreading from beneath the compress Abe applied to his stomach. The gauze is soaked. Blue tries to ask Myers a few questions, but gets little more than grunts from him. I think he's conscious, but not all here.

I brush some of the hair out of his face. Alright look, I don't get nervous. Nothing scares me, but the possibility of losing Myers, the first liaison that hasn't taken years to win me over, scares the living hell out of me. And I've got a damn lot of hell in me, so that's hard.

"He's losing a lot of blood, is he going to make it to the change?" I ask Abe.

He shrugs gingerly, "Who can tell? I'm not all that familiar with the lycanthrope virus, but I will read up on it as soon as we've gotten John stabilized."

Now that my hand is resting on Boyscout's face, I can't help but run my thumb over his cheek. I'm really starting to wish I hadn't let him think that kiss was a joke. Well, I really wish I'd banged him, but I doubt innocent, blush-when-anyone-makes-a-dirty-joke Myers would let me jump from first base to home plate.

Did I just make a baseball innuendo? Ignore that… I hate baseball.

I don't realize that Abe's been observing me until he speaks. "How long has this," he makes a gesture with one hand from John, then to me, "been going on? It seems like something I would not have missed."

I pull away from Boyscout and stick Abe with a glare. "There's nothing to this," I make a mocking version of his gesture; "I'm just worried about the squirt." As if in defense, I mutter, "He is one of us after all."

"Even without reading your mind, I know your habits well enough to know that you do not normally show concern in such a manner. There was a definite affection to both your expression and your touch."

"Stay out of it, Abe," I growl in warning. The threat has little effect on him.

"So, it's one-sided then," he presses.

I often find that the best tactic with Blue is to ignore him, but he usually withdraws his curiosity just before I get to that point. Either way, this conversation is over. It's none of his business anyway. I think Abe senses my aggravation, 'cause he doesn't ask again.

The truck hits a killer bump, jarring Boyscout enough to make him cry out. It doesn't help that I'm worried, but the very least the damn driver could do would be to avoid the potholes the size of the GRAND CANYON! I slam my fist into the speaker connecting us to the front, "Take it easy up there or I'll turn you into a fucking pancake!"

The agent driving stammers out an apology, but I shut off the communication before I hear it all.

"I think that was a little unnecessary, Red. He's doing his best."

I grumble, guilt stirring a little. Blue can do that to me, but it doesn't mean I'm going to apologize. 'Scout get's resettled, his grimace smoothing into a furrowed brow. My hand strays back to John. It's like I'm drawn to his hair. I run my fingers through it. John's hair is soft, even if it is slicked with sweat. It reminds me of my cats… well, minus the sweat.

Myers opens his eyes and looks at me. Considering he couldn't even answer Abe a second ago, it weirds me out a little.

"Hey Boyscout, you're going to be okay," I say, not sure of what else might be appropriate.

His soft brown irises melt slowly from deep chocolate to bright golden yellow before he closes them again and I know the change is going faster than it should be.

"Um… Abe, I think we may have a problem."

Blue leans over, humming his interest.

"Check his eyes," I tell him.

Abe does so and shines a bright penlight into them. John's pupils dilate into slits, common in cats and werewolves. Strange that they would share such a trait.

"That's not good," Abe states, a little too calmly for my taste.

"That means he's getting close, doesn't it?"

"Yes, and, if we don't get back soon, this is going to get very messy."

I give him a look for that, "And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Abe checks Boyscout's stomach wound while he answers, I'm grateful to see that the bleeding has stopped, "While I don't know too much about lycanthropy, I do know that the change can be very jarring and violent."

That crappy response leaves me more curious than satisfied. "You care to elaborate on that?" I grate out.

"Well," again, he's picking his words carefully, "it usually involves a lot of vomit and shed skin."

"Crap," I mutter.

"Indeed."

I punch the speaker again, "Hey, pick up the pace, would ya'?"

I get a warbled affirmative. The device isn't doing so hot after my first attack on it and I have to fool with the button a minute before I can get it to shut off. Abe slides open the truck's shades and peers out at the passing landscape.

"We're just outside of town. Theoretically, if we miss the lights… or run them, we should make it in time. Theoretically."

"Theoretically," I echo, watching John's face tense and relax in a bizarre pattern. Theoretically was not the word I was hoping to hear.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When we make it to HQ, we hit the ground running. Abe called ahead and ordered a medical team and stretcher to be ready for our arrival. Another thing on his list of requests was a lycanthropy expert. I don't know much about the guy besides that he prepared and gave our brief for this mission. He was easy to spot amongst the familiar doctors and nurses. The same medical group has taken over what Abe couldn't handle for years, including his own care.

They move Myers into the building with the precision you would expect from their kind of experience. They've all seen a lot of weird shit since they started with us.

I run with the stretcher, leaving Abe behind to discuss symptoms and signs with his expert. Curious as I am about how he plans on fixing John, I'm not leaving the squirt for anything. That is, until a nurse blocks my way into the surgery room. I practically run into the woman, since she's a bit below my eye level. I know I've met her before, but I can't place her name just now. Hell, they all look the same once they put on the damn scrubs and masks and it doesn't really matter who she is, just that she's in my way.

"I'm going with Boy-" I catch myself halfway through the nickname, "Agent Myers."

"No, you are to remain here. No one is allowed into surgery except doctors and trained medical staff."

I try to interrupt her, but she raises her voice.

"You, Hellboy, can have a seat in the waiting room and someone will be with you when we have an update on Agent Myers' condition."

"Hell no!" She probably weighs about a hundred and forty pounds. If she thinks she's going to stop me, she's got another thing coming. It's not like I'd hurt her or anything, but she WILL be moving.

I'm considering picking her up and shifting her over a few feet when Manning comes around the corner like a one-man stampede. I don't think I've ever seen him run before.

He's talking as soon as he comes within earshot, "What the hell happened?"

I would be the one he asks… "Shit hit the fan and Myers got torn up. He's infected."

The nurse gives Manning a look and disappears into surgery. I'm sure it was the 'keep him here' look. Crap. I've blown up at Manning before, but I'm a lot more likely to get in trouble moving him out of the way. The nurse wouldn't have done anything except yell at me.

Manning puts his hands on his hips and stares at the doors separating us from John. Priorities are going through his head. He's wondering what the likely-hood is that Myers will turn out to be dangerous.

I toss my two cents in while he's thinking, "I could take care of the squirt, make sure he stays out of trouble."

He turns to me, his mouth open with some retort, so I barrel on, "I mean, what's he going to be able to do to me? I think I can handle him."

"What if he infects you? The last thing I need is a giant, red, werewolf-demon rampaging around this place."

Okay, so I didn't want to bring this up, 'cause I know Manning's going to be pissed that he wasn't informed, but here goes, "I can't be infected." It's a bit edited.

"And how do you know that?"

I scratch the back of my head. I really don't want to tell him the rest. Hell, I didn't even tell Abe when it happened. "I got bit before and didn't change," I kind of mutter the words, like it'll help.

Manning's voice shoots up an octave, "What? When? Why didn't I know about this?"

"Well… it happened a while ago and... um… Abe!" I exclaim as soon as I spot the fish-man. He's coming down the hall with his lycanthropy expert in tow. When he stops with us, the wolf guy continues on into surgery. The brief second the doors are open, I catch John's screams. I try to pay attention to what Abe's telling us, but the urge to plow in there and snatch Boyscout up is real strong. Why the hell is he screaming like that? I come back into the conversation when Abe says my name, "What?"

"This involves you as well, so you may want to listen," he scolds. "John is too far into the change, there's no way we can reverse it at this point in time. We need to move him to a secure location for the duration of the change and allow it to run its course."

"What happens then?" Manning asks, alarm in his voice.

"We open the door when he's done and see what's come of it. There's nothing else we can do. Hopefully, he'll still be our John and he won't attack anyone."

Manning is quiet after Abe finishes. I slowly encroach on his personal space while we wait for his response. He doesn't seem to notice, so I lean in a little farther. I'm hoping it will help him remember what I'd suggested. Abe isn't quite as obtrusive, but I can tell he's just as anxious as I am.

"We isolate him until he's done and then you," he shoves his finger against my chest, "will go in and see how he reacts. You're more likely to survive if he does attack and if he does, we'll have a group ready with silver ammunition. He attacks, we put him down."

He emphasizes his last words to make them final, but it doesn't mean I'm not going to argue. I get a sharp jab in the ribs before I can get a word out. It doesn't hurt, but it earns Abe a glare.

"Get him into isolation and clear out the medical staff," Manning orders and heads toward the front, probably to call in his troops and arm them properly.

The medical team breezes past us, John strapped to the stretcher. Wolf expert (I really need to find out that guy's name) is running behind them. John's skin is the color of ash now and he's arched as far off the stretcher as the restraints around his arms and legs will allow. I can hear his bones crunching as they rearrange. It's loud enough to hear over the pounding feet and John's screaming. Abe and I trade glances and take off after them. He catches up to the head of the group and starts directing them.

We're about three turns into this rat race when I realize where we're headed: Liz's room. There is no way we're locking Myers in Liz's room. Abe said John was going to make a mess, what if Liz decides to come back and finds out what happened? She's not going to stay long after that.

A few of the nurses break off from the others and wheel John into the room. The leftover MD's start taking off his restraints and pulling out IVs and removing monitors. I see my opportunity and snag Abe's shoulder.

"What the hell are you thinking? We can't let him change in Liz's room!"

Abe doesn't hesitate when he answers me, "Liz's room is fire-proof and heavily reinforced. If it could hold her during an episode, it will contain John quite effectively."

Yeah okay, he has a point.

"I was originally considering your room, since it is far sturdier, but I was afraid he might eat your cats," Abe adds, pretty effectively shutting me up. I don't know who I'm kidding… Liz isn't coming back this time.

The wolf expert is the last body out the door, but he checks John's eyes and teeth before he leaves. They close and lock the door behind him.

"As far as I can tell, he's got about an hour or so ahead of him. The first change is a slow, arduous process. Your friend is lucky he got a high dose of virus, or this would probably take all night."

"Lucky?" I snap. "He'd be lucky if he hadn't had his guts munched on!"

The lycanthrope guy (what the HELL is this guy's name? I know he introduced himself during the brief, but I wasn't paying attention… why… That's right, they'd pulled Myers in from a jog for the emergency and he was wearing a lot less than he normally does and he was… fuck, it's a wonder that I remember any of that brief.)

Anyway, the lycanthrope guy is busy sizing me up. Either he decides he's not afraid of me, or that honesty might be the best way to stay on my good side, but his response is very straightforward, "Quite frankly, Agent Myers will reap plenty of benefit from this change, assuming there aren't any major complications and he remains sane. His speed and reflexes will increase as will his strength. A wolf's immune system is unmatched, so he will never need to worry about getting sick. He will also have an amazing capability to heal quickly and survive wounds that would be fatal to a human being. If he makes it, I believe he will become a valuable asset to your team."

I did recall from the briefing that this man likes to talk, but I tend to focus on words that catch my attention. "Wait, wait. First of all: if? What's the likelihood that he won't make it?"

Abe cuts in, "Hellboy, I don't think you want to hear those odds."

I wave him off. He's probably right, "And second, Boyscout is already an asset to our team… even if he does get in the way sometimes… or need rescuing… or, that doesn't matter. Point is, he's already an asset!"

I sense rather than see Abe's look of exasperation, but the wolf guy's expression is well worth the effort. Complete bewilderment crosses his face and he mutters an apology before following the rest of the medical staff down the hall. I see him scratch his head halfway down the corridor and have to smirk.

"Right," Abe sighs. "After that childish display, I'm going to go do some research. I'm assuming that you will remain here. Don't open the door… no matter what you hear."

He disappears too and I'm left in the empty hallway. I pace at first, then lean against the wall, then keep pacing. Minutes crawl by like hours and every howl and scream Myers lets out cuts into me. I stick to what Abe told me, but it's damn hard. I almost lose it when I hear Boyscout crying. My hand's on the lock before I can get myself under control. I'm almost grateful when the howling resumes.

If I get nothing else during the longest hour of my life, I get plenty of time to think. Well, maybe second longest, but that's not relevant. I mess with my gun during one of my leaning spells. I have four solid silver rounds left from the attack on the den. Somehow, it makes sense that I should be the one to deal with Myers if it comes to it. Manning's boys are good shots, but if they don't get it right, John could suffer.

He'll have a prime opportunity for escape if they open the door to let other agents in and only a round to the head would be instantly lethal. Anything else would slowly burn through his body until silver poisoning did him in. While I don't want him gone, I really don't want a fate like that for him. If he turns out feral, I'm going to put the cap in his head point-blank. He won't feel a thing after that.

I shake the train of thought from my head. It lingers for awhile, until I put the Samaritan away. My watch says I've been here a little over a half an hour when John starts quieting down. I push off the wall and put my ear against the door. Nothing, all I get is silence.

"Boyscout?"

When I still don't hear anything. I reach for the bolt. The wolf gu- Andrews! That was his name. Dr. Andrews said Myers would take about an hour, so maybe it's a little soon yet. But what if he's stuck, or didn't make it through? What if he did?

I glance down the hall, checking for any sign of Abe or Manning's boys. Now really would be a good time to check on him. Nobody will be breathing down my neck and there's a minimized chance of Myers getting out if I'm the only one dealing with him.

I disengage the lock and consider my decision for a second. Everybody's going to be pissed, but when am I not in trouble? I push the door open and slide inside, making sure to close it quick.

"Holy shit," slips out of my mouth. There's blood everywhere. It's dripping down the walls in rivers and splattered on the ceiling. It looks like a chainsaw massacre times ten. There's no way Myers lost this much blood, he'd be dead. Besides the carnage, I don't see a sign of Boyscout. The bed's overturned and propped haphazardly against the wall. It seems like the only place for him to be hiding.

"John?"

A deep growl comes from beneath the mattress. I guess that means he made it through. I put my hand on my gun. Hope I don't have to use it.

"Boyscout?"

I move towards his makeshift den slowly, not really sure what to expect. Myers was a tiny guy, so I doubt he's a big wolf. Then again, most people are pretty tiny to me, but Myers was a couple inches shorter than most.

He growls again as I get closer. I peer behind the mattress. He's curled up as far from me as he can get, but there's not enough light to see if he's had any complications. Hell, I don't know what kind of 'complications' I'm looking for. I'd need Dr. Andrews for any of that.

I don't want to go in there after him and moving his cover would probably freak him out, so I talk to him. There's nobody here to give me a better idea. "Hey 'Scout. I really hope you're feeling better. That was a hell of a day at the office, huh?"

He looks at me suspiciously, but edges forward a little.

"Come on, it's me HB… what other big red demons do you know?" I joke and reach my hand out to him. He sniffs my fingers and edges forward until my hand is resting on top of his head. Giving him a good scratch seems like the ideal thing to do. John leans into my touch and I can feel the gore caked in his fur.

"You need a bath."

"And a meal, I'd suspect," Andrews says from the door.

I jump like a kid caught with his hand in the damn cookie jar. How the hell did he manage to sneak up on me? Before I can answer that question, John darts out and plants himself between the doc and me. He starts growling and barking.

"Whoa Boyscout, he's okay!" I grab John around the middle and pick him up. Better that he bite me then the wolf guy. Instead of lashing out, like I thought he might, he calms and props his head up on my shoulder. Up close, I can see John's ribs through his fur.

"Why is he emaciated?"

Andrews stays at the front of the room. I guess he's afraid Boyscout might attack him. "It's very normal after a change. The wolf's ability to heal is derived off of its high metabolism. When it's injured, it burns through stomach contents at a rapid rate, then starts to break down fat and tissue to maintain the healing process. A wolf can become extremely dangerous during this time. I'm surprised he's letting you handle him."

"What should I feed him?"

"What would you feed a normal wolf?"

"Meat."

I sneak John into the kitchens, hoping neither Manning nor Abe have realized that he's gone. Myers seems pretty docile and sticks to my side like glue. We'd passed another agent on the way and there wasn't so much as a peep out of John. I'm guessing that he's still himself under that furry exterior. His reaction to Andrews was probably drawn off mine.

I open a couple of the double-decker freezers, looking for steaks or bacon, anything I can give Myers. Thing is, I don't usually come down here. My food is always brought to me, even snacks, so I don't have a clue where anything is. Too bad the chef's gone home for the night.

"Boyscout, where the hell is all the meat?"

He perks his head up and flips his ears forward. Crusted blood flakes off them. He is SO getting a bath once he's been fed.

"Come on man, you bring me meals, surely you know where the steaks are," I try. I'm not sure he can understand me. Wolves might be more like dogs, reacting to keywords.

He looks away and thinks for a second, well, maybe he's listening to a rat in the walls or something, but I'm going to be optimistic and say he's thinking. Whatever he's doing, he comes to a decision and makes a beeline for one of the walk-in fridges. I follow his lead.

"This feels like an episode of 'Lassie'," I mutter. "I thought you said Timmy was in the well. Who put him in the fridge?" I call to him.

John plants his butt in front of the fridge and glares at me, ears back and everything. That means that he's way brighter than a dog, because that's about the look he'd give me if he was human. I have to laugh, which makes him glare harder.

The walk-in is filled with an amazing display of different animals and cuts. There are packaged steaks and ground beef on the shelves; I pull down a handful of them.

"You want these cooked, 'cause I don't know-" before I finish the sentence, John snatches one of the packages out of my hands and starts tearing at the plastic.

"I'll take that as a no." I'm afraid he's going to eat the plastic and Styrofoam along with the meat, but I don't think taking it from him is a good idea. Instead, I unwrap the next steak and wait for him to finish. John looks up only after he's licked the container clean. He takes the next steak a little more carefully.

Three shelves of meat later, John starts slowing down. He plops down onto the floor and sighs. The package of hamburger I was feeding him from has a few more bites left. I pinch off a chunk and roll it into a ball.

"Go long Myers."

He grunts, but doesn't move.

"Come on, you know you want it. It's just a little bite."

That gets him to raise his head a little. I toss the piece of meat at him and he snaps it up.

"Nice catch."

I prepare another ball, grinning at him. Myers rolls his eyes at me. When I throw that one, he lets it hit the floor.

He ate his own weight in meat; I'm not surprised that he feels gorged. Although, it was a normal meal for me. They've probably figured out that he's missing by now, so it's time to tell them he's with me. I bet Manning's about to go into cardiac arrest. That room does look like John mauled somebody before he got out.

I scoop Boyscout off the floor and get a halfhearted groan for it. He's falling asleep fast. I get him settled against my chest and head for the door, but a group of well-armed agents (Manning's kill squad, I'd assume) bust through before I get to it. They weren't expecting me 'cause their tactical group kind of scatters and they look at each other for answers.

One steps forward, "Has Agent Myers been under your supervision since he left the room?"

"Yeah. What'd you think he was doing, eating coworkers?"

I get a chuckle out of a few of them, but it's nervous and forced. Several lower their guns. John shifts against me and flares his nose. He's catching a whiff of the others. I doubt he has enough energy to react to them. He curls up tighter and pushes his muzzle into the crook of my arm. Even covered in coagulated blood, he's still adorable.

"Does he really look like he's capable of eating somebody?"

I don't get an answer for a minute, but a guy to the left perks up, "What's in his fur?"

"Dried blood."

Their guns come back up instantly.

"Stand down," comes from the doorway. Manning looks pissed. I can see a vein standing out on his forehead and his face is just about as red as me. Abe is a step or so behind him. He's smiling faintly, probably because he finds the whole situation amusing. I bet Manning and his boys have been running around frantically looking for a 'killer' wolf.

"What the HELL do you think you're doing? I told you to wait until the squad got there as backup."

I raise an eyebrow. "No, you told me that I'd be the one going in when Myers was done changing. He was done, I went in, he didn't bite my face off, and I figured he was good to go."

If it was possible, I'd say his face turned a darker shade of red. He really might have a coronary. Good thing Abe's a doctor (not certified of course).

"You want to babysit him so bad? Fine, he's yours, but he stays with you tonight and if anything goes wrong, ANYTHING, you will be kicked out of this Bureau!" Manning screams. He stomps off after his tirade, but pauses to add, "You and Myers will be!"

Wow, that was quite a blow-up, not the worst I've seen, but pretty bad. Not like he hasn't threatened to throw me out before. He knows the FBI would look like fools for denying me so long when I appear on the streets looking for a job. He can't fire me. Besides, he's got nobody else to do his really dirty work.

Abe crosses the room, avoiding Manning with a simple sidestep. His smirk has grown into as much of a grin as Abe will ever have.

"He was looking for Myers everywhere, wasn't he?" I ask.

"Practically ripped HQ apart."

"Telling people that there was a dangerous creature on the loose?"

"And that they should evacuate immediately."

I laugh hard.

"You know, he really is going to act on his anger one day," Abe suggests, leaning in to take a look at Myers. "I don't sense any mindless rage in John as I did in the others."

"Could be that he's sleeping," I joke a little halfheartedly. I really hope Abe is right, that John isn't like those human eating lunatics.

"No, it wouldn't matter whether he's sleeping or not. A rage, a hunger like those wolves had goes down to the very central core of their being. It is easy to detect."

Good, at least I won't have to worry about him munching on anyone while I'm not looking. "We'll see ya' in the morning Abe."

"I doubt he will allow you to bathe him without quarrel. John is quite modest."

"Well, he ain't staying in my room covered with this shit."

Abe chuckles softly and flicks his hand through the air, "Good luck then."

He would say something like that. How much trouble could Boyscout be? He's sleepy, food sedated, and Myers, so there's no way I can't handle him.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I'm fucking soaked and Myers is curled in the corner, glaring at me.

He's clean, I made damn sure of that, but he's about as easy to hold onto as a greased pig.

"How long are you going to stay pissed?" I gripe at him.

Myers snorts and turns his nose into the corner. I guess that's answer enough. He snaps at an orange tabby when it get's too close to him. That's just taking this tantrum too far.

"You eat one of my cats, Myers, and I WILL kick your ass!"

His ears droop, as does his head.

"Yeah, you better feel bad," I grumble. "I would make you apologize to him, but he's hiding now. I won't see him for days."

Myers gives me the definition of puppy dog eyes. Let's get one thing straight, I don't really like dogs, I never have. Hell, maybe one bit me when I was a kid, I don't know, but I don't really like them. That look though, especially coming form Myers, that look is a killer. It makes me feel bad for the bath and yelling, all in the same go.

He only fixes me with it for a second or two before I break down, "Alright, I'm sorry. Now get your furry ass over here."

He trots over with his tongue hanging out, cats scattering out of his path like he was the plague. I pull him up onto my converted truck/bed and start laying down some boundaries, "Look, if you're going to stay in here while you're like this, we've got to have some rules. One, don't touch the cats. If one goes missing, you're the first one I'm pointing a finger at. Two, don't ever, ever… hey!" I exclaim as John crawls past me and gets settled in the covers. "Let's skip to number five; it's my bed, so move over!"

John completely ignores me.

I nudge him with my right hand, making sure I prod the stone against his ribs. The best I get is a grumble and a few extra inches of room.

"Right, I'm going to change. If you aren't out of MY bed by the time I get back, we're going to have trouble, squirt."

I shuck out of my wet clothes in the bathroom and stick them down the laundry chute. Wet dog… that's probably not a smell that's ever graced my clothing before. Well, my clothes are lucky to get back in one piece after some of our escapades, so wet dog shouldn't' be a problem for our laundry lady. BPRD is probably the worst, if not the most profitable job she's ever had. Slime, blood, mud, grease, demonic vomit, she's cleaned it all. I suspect she hates us most days.

After I'm dressed in a pair of sweatpants, I wander back into my room. Myers is still rooted to the middle of my bed. So much for threats. Do they work on anybody anymore? I sigh and move him out of the center. I don't really have a good place for him to sleep, so I'll share, just this once. I scoot him over and lay down. Actually, I'd really enjoy sharing my bed with him, as long as it involved some form of nudity… and a lack of fur.

TBC...


	2. Monsters

This chapter's a bit shorter than the first one, but it's in John's perspective.

- John

I wake up to the feeling that it's later than it should be. My alarm didn't go off. I don't really remember setting it, or getting ready for bed. A quick run-through of the night before isn't very enlightening. The last thing I remember is infiltrating the den, then darkness and pain. There was something heavy on my chest and Hellboy was yelling my name. I don't normally have trouble remembering things, so something must have happened. A knot forms in my stomach.

"Get a grip John," I whisper softly.

Whatever happened, it couldn't have been that bad. I am in my bed… but the color of the sheets is wrong. I inspect them more closely from where I'm laying, since I'm not sure I have the confidence to sit up and look around just yet. Sometimes, it's better not to know.

The fabric is dark, maybe navy or black, so it's doubtful that I'm in the hospital wing. I squint my eyes shut and try to picture a bed I might know with dark sheets. There are three sets in my closet, but they're cream, white, and green, stacked in that order. The green ones were always for company when I had a spare bedroom, and I never really use them.

The medical wing has standard-issue white in every room because white can be bleached. I've never visited another agent, so there are a few possibilities there, but why would I be in another agent's room? Seems weird.

I really should just sit up and figure it out; it's better than lying in bed all day. I shift and immediately realize that there are a few things very wrong. Where in God's name are my clothes? I wrack my brain for ideas. Ruling out something paranormal, the possibilities are drugs, unconsciousness, or inebriation, none of which comfort me any.

I was never near a drop of alcohol last night, so there is no excuse for me not to remember getting naked and climbing into a stranger's bed. Could I have been drugged? It seems unlikely. There was never a time or a place that it could have been possible. We were in a werewolf den for crying out loud! Where would I have come in contact with date-rape drugs?

A quiet snore interrupts my thoughts and I freeze up. I've been so busy trying to figure out the where that I didn't give much attention to the who. I perk my ears and pick up the sound of steady breathing. Whoever it is, they're sleeping heavily.

I wish like crazy that Hellboy would bust in the door, gun blazing, but he hasn't. He probably can't find me… or hasn't realized that I'm gone… or doesn't care… damn it! I've got to stop thinking like that! I'm an FBI agent, I don't need rescuing. I just have to figure this out on my own.

I could jump the person and try to fight my way out, but that seems a little rash. I would be better off sneaking out while he/she is asleep. That decision in mind, I carefully move the sheets and slide backwards, shifting one of my feet out so I can feel the edge of the bed before I come to it. My foot encounters something, something that yowls and claws me.

I try to suppress my shout about a half second after it's left my mouth. My bedmate sits up abruptly, scaring me to death. I yell again and instinctively jump back, right off the edge of the bed. The fall is disorienting, but I manage to right myself before the light snaps on.

"Boyscout?"

The groggy nickname keeps me from bolting to the door. Heat flushes my face when I recognize the voice. A swift kick to the head would be appropriate about now. Good ol' jumpy Myers, overreacting again. Wait… why am I naked in Hellboy's bed? That kiss, the one I've been desperately (and unsuccessfully) trying to forget, was that a warning? HB wouldn't do something like take advantage of someone, would he?

Anger rushes my senses faster than it ever has before and I get the urge to lash out at him for doing something without my consent. He could have just asked! Oh god!

That last thought cuts my rage down into shame. If Hellboy had asked, I probably would have consented, even knowing that I would just be a replacement for Liz. Am I really that desperate for his affection? It's displacement. Because he can't have what he wants, he focuses his attentions on something else in hopes of distracting himself.

"Myers?" He sounds a little more awake now, but there's something else in his voice, concern? "Myers, if you're eating one of my cats, I swear…"

What? That was a weird enough statement to get me to poke my head over the line of the mattress. I get caught up staring at his bare chest for a second before I remember to speak, "Why would I eat one of your cats? And why am I in your room? And why am I naked?" It's a lot more than I intended on asking, but I'm a little… scratch a little, VERY freaked out.

"Well, there was that wild party-"

I cut in, "Hellboy, I'm not in the mood! What happened?"

He looks surprised that I raised my voice at him. Hell, I'm surprised that I raised my voice at him too. I find myself apologizing instantly, "I'm sorry Red. This whole thing is just weird and I don't know what to do."

He doesn't seem to be listening to me. Instead, he pushes the blankets off his legs (I'm immensely relieved to see that he's wearing pants) and vaults off the bed.

"You don't remember anything, do you squirt?" he asks as he rifles through his closet.

I sigh and mutter, "No, but I get the feeling that I should."

HB comes out and tosses one of his shirts at me. I slip it over my head, feeling like a kid playing in his parent's clothes. The cloth swallows me, but it'll do to keep my modesty intact. I can have Red run for some of my stuff…

Wait; do I really want him going through my things? I have to really weigh walking around HQ in Red's clothes, or giving him free access to my room. There are a few things he really just doesn't need to see.

I look up and realize that he's staring at me. The shirt doesn't feel big enough now; I wish it would cover my legs more effectively. Pinned by his scrutiny, I feel a blush crawling up my neck and across my face. Part of me wants to strip and give him a real show, but I quickly squash the absurd idea. "What?" I finally blurt.

He shrugs like he wasn't just examining me from head to toe, "We need to go see Abe."

"I am not wandering around in nothing but your shirt!" I exclaim. "Give me pants or something!"

"My pants would just fall off you," HB says with a smirk.

I glare at him. There is no way I'm leaving his room like this. People will think that we… did we? I shift slightly. No discomfort, that's a good sign I guess, but I'm still not going to let people assume that we did it. I don't care what he says to try and convince me.

"Myers, it's still early, there's not going to be anybody in the hall. Nobody does anything around here before at least 4, so let's go. We're headed to the library anyway," he tries. When I still don't budge, he leans over to check the digital clock on the nightstand. "Boyscout, does that say 6:46, as in AM?"

I glance around him, "Now its 6:47."

"AM?"

"Yes."

His face scrunches up as if he was examining something disgusting (I'm sure the definition of that word is completely different for him than it is for me.) "I never get up before ten! Why the hell did you wake me up so early?"

I know he wakes up at ten; I'm the one who gets him out of bed with a cart of food. "I wake up at six everyday Red."

He looks abhorred at the idea, "Why?"

"Because I have a lot to do before I can get you breakfast in the morning. Besides, do you know how long it takes to prepare six pounds of bacon and thirty-six pancakes? Not to mention the eggs…"

So, I don't actually make the food, I just put the order in with the cook, but he doesn't need to know that. I think he might already, but at least my job can look mildly impressive for a few seconds.

His stomach growls at my mentioning of food. It's a little early for breakfast, but HB is always hungry. I've never met someone who eats as much food as him.

I sigh, "We'll go see Abe if you're worried, then we'll get you some breakfast, but we're stopping in my room to get me some clothes."

"Who said we would?"

I can't stop my skeptical look. HB jokes a lot, often at the expense of someone else, but it's how he keeps himself amused. We can sometimes go weeks or months without a supernatural occurrence to look into and HB only gets to come out for the really dangerous ones. That leaves him with a lot of downtime. He spends a majority of it working out, but the rest making some crude joke or another. Thing is, I'm having difficulty separating fact from farce. I'm beginning to wonder if he's toying with me for a laugh or if he's actually interested.

I get up and cross the room, acutely aware of his eyes on me. He might be serious about all this. After all, I still haven't figured out why I wound up in his room in my birthday suit.

This strange mischievousness comes out of nowhere and I feel compelled to act on it. I slide up to Red with a smile. My hand ghosts over his skin like it has a mind of its own. "So, are you going to stand there and stare, or do you plan on getting dressed?"

I hear his heartbeat pick up and get a rush from it. He's very interested. But I don't know where to go from there. I move away before things can get complicated.

"I guess I'll get dressed," he says.

HB almost sounds a little bewildered, but I guess I am too.

It may not say it in my records, but I was top in my class and bottom in my peer evaluations. About halfway through my time at Quantico, my fellow trainees discovered that I'm gay. It amazes me that most men act like you'll attack them once they know, like I hadn't just spent two years with them without making a move. I can't say I didn't have a crush, because I did, but I kept to myself about anything and everything dealing with my sexuality.

I thought I'd left that madness behind. My training at Quantico was hell, but I made it through. I think my classmates were hoping to run me out so they wouldn't have to fear for their asses. Makes me sick to my stomach.

Thing is, when HB kissed me, I thought he'd found out about me. It wouldn't be hard for him to hear about it, considering that Abe can read minds, but I was sure that Abe was more confidential about the secrets he gleans. I figured that I had become his most recent joke.

Now, looking over my shoulder at his stunned face, I know otherwise. But I don't want to be a rebound. If I'm going to be with HB, Liz can't still be holding a majority of his heart.

Red finally shakes his shock and disappears into his closet. When he comes back, he's in his usual leather pants and black muscle shirt. It reminds me that I'm wearing next to nothing. First thing, we stop to get me decent clothes, and then we can talk to Abe about my memory lapse.

The halls are silent when we pass through them. Every time I glance over at HB, he's starting at some part of my anatomy. I let him for now. I turn at the door to my room. "Stay here a minute and I'll be right out," I tell him.

Hellboy raises an eyebrow at me. I don't need him in my room. There are a few things that he really just doesn't need to see and I don't need to get mocked for the remainder of my time with him.

I slip through the smallest opening I can manage, shutting the door behind me. The door won't stop HB if he's curious enough, but he stays put until I edge back out in jeans and a t-shirt.

"What's with the casual dress, Scout?" he asks as he pushes off the wall.

"You do know that today is my day off, right?" He looks at me blankly, so I add, "I only get two days off a month, the fifteenth and the thirtieth and today's the fifteenth."

"But you didn't take a day off last month."

"That's because we had that chimera running around Eighth Street, it was all hands on deck."

"That only took a couple days to deal with, what were you doing the rest of the time?"

I give him a solid glare, "The paperwork explaining your interesting disposal method."

He pauses in the hallway and I keep walking. "Come on! He fell off the building! That wasn't my fault!"

"They were scraping his guts off the sidewalk for blocks! It took the Bureau three press conferences to explain it away," I yell over my shoulder as I push open the doors to the library.

I hear Hellboy muttering behind me, "It's not like I knew he'd explode."

Abe greets us from the piles of books he's working with. Usually, he reads from his tank, but this looks more like research.

"How are you feeling John?"

"I'm fine, thanks," I answer, leaning over to see what he's up to. The books scattered across the table are all open to werewolves: diet, habits, breeding, everything. I guess its follow-up from the night before.

I catch Abe and HB trade glances, and then Red speaks up, "He doesn't remember anything."

"That's really not uncommon after such an ordeal."

That catches my attention, "What ordeal?" Hellboy didn't bother to mention what happened the night before. If Abe considers it an 'ordeal', it must have been pretty bad. Why can't I remember?

"And you didn't tell him," Abe chides HB. It doesn't have much affect, getting little more than a shrug from Red.

"I was kind of hoping you could. You're better at breaking things to people."

This is really starting to freak me out. Not only do I not remember, but they're hesitant to tell me. These guys see more unusual stuff in a year than an average person can dream of in the lifetime. My stomach twists into a knot for the second time this morning.

"Tell me what?" I press.

Abe is the one who breaks first and gives me the news, "You were bitten by a wolf last night… we didn't get you back in time to reverse the change."

My heart stops and my world follows suit. A snarling flash of teeth passes through my mind. I can smell the retched stench of its breath rolling over my face and see the gleaming yellow eyes boring into my skull. The pain comes back, sharp and wrenching in my guts. Clawed hands pull out my intestines and they disappear into the monster's maw. The howling echoes in my head.

Strong hands shake me from the memory?...day terror? And amber-yellow eyes replace those of the wolf.

"John?" Hellboy asks. There's a deep concern in his voice, like it's the second or third time he's called my name.

"I'm a werewolf?" I manage to croak out of my strangely dry throat.

The crease in HB's brow deepens, "Yeah 'Scout, you're a wolf."

My legs go out from under me, but Red grabs me before I hit the floor. I can't be one of those things. Those things are monsters! What was the statistic? That there are well over 10,000 human deaths recorded every year that are known werewolf attacks. I can't imagine how many go unrecorded. If I'm one of those creatures, then the entire Bureau is in danger! If I lose control, I could kill everyone! I can't stay here. I will not put the Bureau at risk, but I can't just leave. Every human being I come in contact with will be at risk. There has to be another option.

"John." The word is in my head, as if I thought it, but I recognize Abe's voice. When I look up, Abe and HB are watching me closely. HB still has hold of my arms. His touch is the only solid thing I have grounding me in reality. I feel like I'd fall into pieces if he wasn't anchoring me… or grow teeth and claws and tear my way out of my human skin. The thought sends a tremor down my spine.

The other occupants of the room seem to be waiting of something, so I stammer the first thing that comes to mind, "I'm… I'm alright." I don't think I've ever uttered such an outright lie before. My whole world is pitching dangerously out of control and all I can manage is that 'I'm alright'?

HB doesn't look anymore convinced by my lie than I am, but he slowly releases his hold on me. I want to scream for him not to let go. To my surprise, I don't fall to the floor or pass out, but I feel very cold in his absence.

"I know it is a shock John, but we've deemed you to be safe. I don't believe you will hurt anyone. I'm sure Dr. Andrews will want to make his own judgment, but I'm sure it will match my own," Abe says, probably feeding off the whirlwind of my mind. I try not to scoff at his words.

Safe now, snarling beast later. I want to laugh and cry all at once. I think they call that hysterics and it would be best if I didn't break down like that, but I really think I've earned it.

"I'm alright," I repeat. The phrase sounds more hollow the second time around.

I've got to get to work. Werewolf or not, I have to get HB fed and get the day started. I'm sure I have paperwork on my desk from last night. Work can take my mind off of almost anything. "I'll go get breakfast started," I mutter.

HB opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but doesn't speak. Instead, he falls into step behind me. Abe calls him back before we get to the door, "Red, could I speak to you for a moment?"

HB sighs, his tail twitching slightly in obvious aggravation. I can tell that he doesn't want to leave me alone.

"I'm alright." I'm starting to sound like a broken record, but HB let's me leave without any fuss. I'm hoping he'll trot up beside me before I get too far down the hall. I'm hoping he'll come find me before I do something stupid. I'm hoping…

TBC…


	3. The Firestarter

- HB

Boyscout's never acted like that before. Sure, he's had a variety of reactions as he learned exactly what's involved in paranormal investigation, but I don't think I've seen him so pale before.

"Alright, what is it Abe?" I ask sharply, more so than I'd intended, but I want to catch up with Boyscout ASAP. He doesn't seem very stable.

"John is a commitment now, Red."

I give him a long look while I try and figure out what the hell he means. I settle on, "Huh?"

"You seem to have taken an interest in John recently, and I think you need to understand that he can't just be a fling. If you commence in any sexual activities with Agent Myers, he will become a commitment."

Okay, he's got my attention now, "Yeah, and?"

Abe flips through one of the books he's got spread out on Dad's desk, "A werewolf, like a natural wolf, only takes one mate in a lifetime. So, if you decide you aren't interested in John anymore, he would either be celibate for the remainder of his life, or die."

"Whoa. Both of those are a bit extreme, aren't they?"

"Not for a wolf, Red. He would never have a desire for anyone else if he was with you. And," He pauses, turning to a different section in the book, "you should also know that he may live as long as you. A werewolf has an expanded lifespan, but it has yet to documented exactly how long."

A lifetime commitment to Boyscout. It's a little hard to fathom. I don't think I've ever imagined anybody sticking around longer than a year or two, let alone a lifetime

"What if he gets sick of me?"

"He won't."

"That seems unlikely," I grumble. Even Liz got sick of me, and that didn't take very long. What's the likelihood that Squirt wouldn't do the exact same thing?

"Because he would be bound to you," Abe supplies.

I glare at him. He needs to stay out of my head.

"It doesn't take a mind reader."

He does that way too often for me to get ticked. "Are we done?"

"We're done."

I head for the door. One more thing pops into my mind, something Abe might have an answer to. "Hey, why do you think I like Myers? I mean, I've never liked a guy before, so why him?"

Abe is quiet for a long moment. I guess he doesn't have an answer either, but he surprises me when he comes up with a theory, "Perhaps you haven't noticed a desire for men because you haven't been around someone who's piqued your interest. Most men we encounter at the Bureau are either married, older, or both. It's not uncommon for a demon to be interested in both sexes."

"You'd think I would've noticed by now."

Abe smiles slightly, "You were a bit preoccupied."

"With what?"

"Liz."

When I can't think up a smart-ass response, I walk out the door. I hear Abe's laughter behind me. Sometimes, I hate his higher brain functions.

My next stop is the kitchen and I can smell the frying bacon long before I reach it. At this point, I could eat half a cow… No, make that a whole cow. Mmmm… beef. Maybe I should put in a request for steak and eggs while I'm here.

I sidestep my food cart, which is sadly empty, but I don't see Myers anywhere in the kitchen. The chef's at the stove and Agent Donegal is cutting up an apple. They're talking about Donegal's kids when I come in.

"Where's Myers?" I ask. I may as well have jumped in and roared at them for the reaction I get. Donegal yells and tosses the remainder of his apple into the air. "Red! What are you doing here?" He checks his watch, "Breakfast is at ten, right?" Donegal usually only works when Myers is taking a vacation day, but he knows my schedule pretty well. He's been around since Clay started work with the Bureau.

As long as he's been here, I still think he's afraid of me. The look he's wearing right now says he'd piss himself if I made any sudden movements. Funny that our cook, who I've only met a handful of times gives me a friendly wave and keeps flipping pancakes. My appearance bothers some more than others.

"You seen Myers?"

Agent Donegal shifts from fear to confusion, but still looks about ready to jump out of his skin, "No sir, he's got the day off."

So, if Myers didn't make it down to the kitchen, where the hell did he end up? I grab a handful of cooked bacon and start my hunt, yelling as I head out, "I still want that in my room at ten!"

The next logical place to find Boyscout would be his office, but I turn up empty there. He's not going to be happy when he sees how much paperwork he has piled up.

If this were a normal day, I would try the gym next, but I doubt he's in the mood to work out. The only other place I can think of is his room. Myers doesn't usually spend that much time there, except when something's happened. If 'Scout's pissed or upset, I find he retreats to his room.

The door's firmly shut when I walk up, but it's always like that. I'm beginning to wonder if he's hiding something in there. When I knock, I don't get an answer.

"Scout, you in there kid?"

I knock again, but louder. A muffled, 'yeah', finally comes through. Myers doesn't give me anything else.

"Hey, what are you doing in there?"

I try the door, but it's locked.

"Nothing," he sounds depressed. Crap. He definitely didn't take the news well. I mean, I knew he didn't by the way he reacted in the library, but I guess I was hoping that he'd bounce back.

"Open the door Boyscout."

"No."

What? If he thinks I'm going to let him mope in there, he's insane. "What do you mean 'no'? Open the door!"

"No."

This is starting to piss me off.

"You either open the door, or I come in anyway!" That threat makes me sound like his Dad… ugh.

I consider doing a countdown before I break in, but I don't get a chance to start before 'Scout slips out and closes the door behind him.

"What?" he asks, a little out of breath. He's still kind of pale.

Wait… what doesn't he want me to see in his room? That's the second time he's freaked out at the thought of me seeing inside.

I don't bother asking, he'll just make up some thin excuse. Instead, I wrap my hands around his waist and move him to the other side of me. He squirms and blushes, complaining loudly, "What the hell are you doing, Red?"

John tries to stop me, but he's really easy to hold back with one hand, "Why haven't you ever invited me over to your place? It hurts my feelings that I'm always the one doing the entertaining."

He looks about ready to faint when I push open the door. At first, I don't notice anything weird; bed's made, floor's spotless, and there's nothing incriminating lying around. Then, I notice what's on the walls. 'Scout's got framed posters of about every superhero ever conceived. I turn to look around the room, listing the characters off in my head: Wolverine, Superman, Batman, The Hulk, me… It's a drawing from one of those comic books in which I'm posing half-naked.

I'm noticing a trend, that they're all muscle-bound men with torn costumes or bare chests. Interesting. "You're a closet nerd 'Scout," is all I can think to say.

John comes around and shoves on my chest with a little more force than I expect from Boyscout, but I don't budge. He pushes with his hands, then his shoulder, trying to force me out. When he can't get me to move, he whines, "HB! Get out!"

"Damage done kid. I know your secret now… Are these what was in those boxes you got a while ago?"

He sighs and slumps against me, red still tinting his face, "Yeah. I didn't have enough space to bring them when I moved, so I had them sent later."

"Did you do the same for your comic books?"

"Yeah, but…" he glances around, probably to see if he left anything out, "How did you know about them?"

I grin at his gullibility, "I didn't, but now I do."

He sighs again, following it up with a groan, "Fine, I'm a closet nerd. Happy now?"

"Thrilled," I say.

I'm tempted to ask him how many of my comic books he has, but he's gotten real quiet. He's still leaning on me, which is kind of nice. I look down at the top of his head, not sure what to do. I'm really bad at this 'touch-feely' fix John's emotions thing. Abe would be a lot better for this, but I'm the one who's here and I'm doubtful that Myers would lean on Abe the same way. Though, a few minutes ago, I wouldn't have said he'd lean on me either

"You ok, 'Scout?"

"How can I be one of those things?" he whispers against me. His words are muffled by my shirt, but I get the gist of it.

"It's a virus. There's not much you can do about it."

"I'm a monster, HB."

Yeah, he took the news badly. He pushes off of me and starts pacing. It's not a good sign. "You're not a monster Boyscout; you're just part of the freak show now. If our numbers keep going up, we should consider taking this show on the road."

The joke slides right past him.

"It's not the same with you and Abe! You're not going to lose control and tear somebody's throat out!" He stops and looks at me, adding, "Well, Abe won't anyway."

"Hey!" Yeah, so I snap sometimes, but I've never killed anybody when I'm pissed off. Wounds are a whole different story.

He keeps going, "I'm dangerous HB! I would never forgive myself if I hurt somebody."

"You aren't dangerous."

"I want you to do me a favor."

I cross my arms over my chest, "I'm not agreeing to anything unless you tell me what it is."

Myers collapses on the edge of his bed, dropping his head in his hands. He sounds terrified when he speaks, "I want you to end this before I can do somebody permanent harm."

I really don't like the sound of that. I hope he's not asking what I think he is, "And what's that supposed to mean?"

When he looks up at me, his expression is just as mortified as his voice, "Do I have to be that blunt?"

That's exactly what he's asking. I'm not sure why, but it makes me angry. I raise my voice at him, "Damn it Myers! You aren't dangerous! You just need to get used to the fact that you're one of us now! The idea may not be attractive to you, but you don't have a lot of choice. I'm not giving you the easy way out."

His expression crumbles when I yell at him and I cuss under my breath. I wasn't lying when I said I sucked at this 'touchy-feely' shit. Now he looks like he's ready to cry. I don't know what the hell I'd do if Myers broke down like that.

"Fuck Myers, I don't know what to tell you, but I was with you a long time yesterday and you weren't vicious," I say more quietly, sitting on the bed beside him. He sniffles a little, and I brace myself for full force waterworks that never come.

"I've just never imagined that this is the kind of turn my life would take."

"That makes sense. I mean, I doubt there are too many people sitting around thinking that they'll be infected with Lycanthropy before they reach 25."

"I'm 27."

"Whatever, close enough." I finally manage to drag a smile out of him. Good… he was starting to make me nervous.

A loud growl cuts through our conversation, but it isn't my stomach. 'Scout gives me a sheepish look, "I guess I'm hungry."

"Geez Myers, that was you? Sounds like you're as starved as I am," and judging by the way he ate last night, I bet he can put down just as much as me now. "Come on, let's go get some grub."

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Two full carts of food later, Myers is sprawled out on my bed and I'm trying real hard not to focus on that fact. I keep running what Abe said through my mind: Boyscout is a lifetime commitment.

I grab a cigar out of my stash, lighting a wooden match with my thumb. I haven't used a lighter on one since Manning showed me the difference it makes. The first hit of smoke is like heaven. Thinking about it, this looks pretty bad. Myers isn't as perfectly preened as he usually is and I'm smoking like a cliché 50's actor. It would be really funny if somebody- wait; do I hear someone coming down the hall? Whatever, it's not like we did anything.  
Of all people to come through the door, of all the possibilities, it's Liz who pokes her head around the corner. I probably wouldn't have been more surprised if the president came in to thank me for saving the world again, but I haven't met a president since Gerald Ford.

"Liz!"

"You two look like you're getting cozy," she comments.

Boyscout bolts out of my bed like somebody set fire to it, his food induced lethargy disappearing, "Liz! What are you doing back?"

"I heard what happened."

Myers runs his fingers through his hair and tries to smooth his clothes. I'm not sure whether it's for appearances or if he's trying not to look like he was in my bed for the wrong reasons. "Already?" he stammers. "News travels fast."

Liz turns to glare at me. What hell did I do? She plants her hands on her hips and talks down at me as if she was scolding a kid, "Why weren't you looking after him?"

"If he'd stayed put like I told him to, none of this would have happened." In hindsight, I probably shouldn't have thrown that accusation while John was in the room.

He gets defensive immediately, "Me? Have I ever listened when you said 'stay here'? I'm not in the Bureau so I can sit on the sidelines!"

Liz jumps back into the argument, "HB, you're supposed to be the one taking care of your team when you're on an assignment. If John wants to do his job and come along, you should have been watching his back."

Two minutes at the Bureau and she's already on my case. Can't a guy get a break? "No, I was supposed to be killing the man-eating werewolves, not guarding Boyscout's ass! If he can't pull his own weight, he needs to stay out of the fight!"

Shit… did that just come out of my mouth? When I sneak a look at 'Scout's face, I realize that it's going to take days to make up for that comment. John storms out the door and Liz pins me with that 'I'm so disappointed' expression. I hate that look.

"HB," she sighs.

"What?" I snap.

Liz doesn't say anything else. She picks up the bag at her feet (Bag? Is she coming back to stay? Doesn't matter, it won't last long) and walks out after Myers. Why do I get the feeling that I'm getting ganged up on?

- John

I can't believe he would say something like that! Damn it! I may not be a 400 pound, walking muscle mass that can punch through walls, but I was chosen for this job for a reason, wasn't I? If I can't fight with them, what the hell is the point in me being here? Right now, my job title may as well be glorified babysitter!

I pass a few people in the halls, but it takes me a while to realize that everyone is giving me a wide berth as I go by. If Liz already knows what happened, I'm sure everyone of the Bureau does. I don't blame them for not wanting to come near me.

Where am I going?

Stalking around the halls aimlessly probably isn't the best idea. I slow down enough to think up a decent destination. The gym would be a good place to blow off some steam; I could really use a workout session. If I wear myself out, maybe Red's brashness won't bother me so much.

I alter my course a little and go to the locker rooms. The place is deserted when I get there. Even if there was somebody getting ready, I'm sure they'd take off as soon as I arrived. I'll just stay away from the weights until I can find someone who's not afraid to spot me. I toss on my gear, cursing HB, werewolves, and my cowardly teammates. This day could turn for the better, and now would be a good time.

The workout facilities are just as deserted as the locker room. I start my usual regiment on the treadmill, but it's really just giving me more time to think. I want to do something a bit more strenuous. I've gone about half a mile before something catches my attention: the punching bag. If that's not a stress reliever, nothing is. I abandon the treadmill in favor of some hand wraps.

I don't normally use the bag to workout, so I'm not really sure the best way to go about this. I've used one in a regimented training session in hand-to-hand combat, but we graduated to live combat practice pretty quickly. A bag isn't much good for proper training because it doesn't fight back.

The first few hits I dish out are kind of weak, but I've found a rhythm soon enough. This IS good for stress. Dumb though it seems at first, I start putting faces on the bag. Frustration pours out in a series of hard punches, followed up with a roundhouse kick to the middle. The bag must be light, because it swings wide from the hit.

I dodge around it and keep going. This is a lot easier than it used to be. I mean, I know it's not fighting back, but my attacks seem more fluid than they normally are. Energy is coming from a deep source I never knew I had. Maybe it's the lycanthropy, but I don't want to think about it.

I'm not sure how, but even over the sound of my attack on the bag, my breathing, and the absurdly loud air-conditioner, I hear somebody's footsteps. I brace the punching bag to still it and lean around to see who came in.

Liz gives me a small, but genuine smile. I'm not sure whether I'm happy to see her, or pissed that she's here. Now that she's back again, Hellboy will forget I exist. Then again, maybe that wouldn't be so bad with the way he acts sometimes.

"He doesn't mean it."

I make a conscious decision to be civilized. Liz may be a little wishy-washy, but it's not her fault that HB's that and a jerk. "Mean what?"

Liz rubs her wrist. It brings my attention to the fact that she's not wearing her rubber bands. I guess she decided that she doesn't need them. "What he said. Sometimes, HB can say things that he doesn't mean… it's usually because he's worried."

I can feel the frustration coming back. I give the bag another brutal punch, admitting, "Yeah, well. It always hurts worse when what he says is true."

Liz laughs a little, "But at least it's not like Abe's brutal honesty. HB usually remembers to cut you some slack when you're having a tough time."

I feel a smile creeping onto my face, "I guess it's always worse when Abe chooses not to say anything."

"If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all. It's always kind of been Abe's philosophy," she adds.

Alright, I'm happy to see her. We usually get along pretty well and I didn't really realize how much I missed her. I can't be angry with her because she has something I'm jealous of.

"I probably reek. Let me get a shower and we can go catch up over some coffee."

Her smile get's a touch bigger, "Ok."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

We settle in at the Bureau's tiny cafeteria, a fresh pot of coffee on the table between us. I start up the conversation, "So, how have things been on the outside?"

Liz adverts her gaze and busies herself pouring each of us a cup of Joe. I try not to stare too obtrusively while I'm waiting for her answer. Something happened, but it hasn't made it to the news, so I'm sure it didn't involve catching a building on fire.

"Not so great, I take it," I say when she doesn't answer.

Liz shakes her head. She takes a sip of coffee and spins the mug between her palms, "It was great, at first. I was dating this guy, Brady, and the Bureau was funding my apartment. A couple days ago, I found out he was cheating on me."

"So," I press, "what happened?" I'm really hoping she just dumped him and is coming here for a vacation, but Liz has a bit of an unconscious temper. He may have lived, assuming he didn't do something stupid, like hit her.

She looks up from her coffee and I know the news isn't good, "I kind of… toasted him."

"Did you lose control?"

Liz pauses, "No."

She's been doing extremely well with her power, not a single incident since Russia. On missions, she's been able to, for the most part, burn things on cue. It would have surprised me if she lost control over a bum boyfriend. I guess that means it was intentional.

"If you didn't lose control, then…" I trail off, not wanting to make the accusation.

"I could feel it slipping out of my command, so I directed it on something instead of letting it consume everything. It was really easy to reel back in afterwards."

"Something… you mean your boyfriend?"

She winces slightly, "Yeah, but don't tell HB… or Manning. Please?"

"Alright," I agree. It comes out a little easier than it should have, considering it's kind of a big secret to hide. Then again, it's not like it wasn't the first time her powers have killed someone. I know I have to check loose ends if we're going to keep this quiet, "Where there any remains?" I lean in close and lower my voice, even though there's nobody else in the cafeteria.

"No, just ash… I vacuumed him up."

There's something morbidly amusing about that idea. "Did it leave any scorch marks where he was standing, or on the walls nearby?"

Liz takes another sip of coffee, thinking about that for a moment, "No. He was standing in the middle of the kitchen. It didn't mark-up the tile and he wasn't close enough to a wall. The ceiling looks a little dark though."

That's not so bad. A scorched ceiling in a kitchen could have any number of sources. "You did empty the vacuum, didn't you?"

"Yes," she says, a little exasperated.

Then there shouldn't be any solid evidence of his death. Ash isn't any good for DNA, so they won't find any connection between burned residue and Brady. He'll just pass into memory as a missing person.

I nod, drain my cup and get a refill, "Are you…" I have to clear my throat before I can get the sentence out, "Are you going to get back with HB?"

She almost laughs at the idea, "No. I grew up with Red; I just didn't realize how much I view him as a brother until I tried to date him. It was just…"

"Awkward," I supply.

"Yeah, awkward… but what's with you two? You seem to be getting awfully close."

I feel the blush creep across my face. "We've just been…" my brain fails to supply anything after that. I'm not sure whether it's my lack of words or profuse blushing that makes her mouth drop open.

"You like him!" she exclaims.

I shush her, "I don't need the entire Bureau to be privy to that information."

She leans in and drops her voice to just above a whisper, "You do, don't you? I didn't know you swung that way. I thought you were making moves on me the first day we met."

"I was trying to be friendly," I mumble.

I really, REALLY hope this doesn't get around the Bureau. I highly doubt that Liz would spread it, but I don't want things to become like they were in Quantico. Its bad enough they all know that I'm a werewolf, but gay would be a terrible addition to that. No one would ever speak to me again… Actually, I don't see Abe having trouble with any of it and I'm pretty sure HB already knows both of those facts, even if I haven't outwardly confessed to him. So, I guess I would just be one of the freaks after all.

"How long?" she asks.

"What?"

"How long have you liked him?"

"Since I was about nine…"

Liz stares at me, "How long?"

"Since I read the first comic book featuring him."

She makes an over exaggerated 'oh' with her mouth, "So, meeting him was like…"

"The most terrifying and exciting moment of my life, but don't tell him that. I think his ego is big enough as is."

We both get a good laugh out of that. Her smile fades slowly and she continues to spin her coffee mug between her hands. I can tell she wants to say something. She hesitates a moment longer before she looks up at me, "I don't know if he'll be…" Liz presses her lips together, "I hate to say it, but… interested."

"If I'm not mistaken, he is," I comment calmly, and probably a bit smugly.

Liz raises her eyebrow, the other joins in the race for her hairline, "Are you going to elaborate on that?"

A smile curls the edge of my lip and I let her wonder for a second. She leans over her coffee, waiting impatiently. I keep her on edge for a few moments longer, doing nothing but smile, I'm hoping cryptically.

"What happened?"

"He kissed me." Suddenly, this feels like middle school, kids clustered together over Mom-made meals, whispering about everyone's dating situation, even though they're not old enough to understand what it really means.

"HB kissed you?" I could probably count on one hand how many times I've seen a look of such pure disbelief. "As in a non-accidental, not HB-foolishness kind of kiss?"

"I really wasn't sure what it was at the time, but I'm starting to think that he's actually interested," I say into my mug. I'm a little embarrassed talking about all this. I never really had anyone to confide in before and I'm not used to spilling dark secrets without threat of pain or torture. I guess this would be what it's like to have a real friend.

"He really did then," Liz flops back in her chair, "HB doesn't have any problem going after what he wants, but sometimes it takes him a while to realize that he wants it." She's quiet after that, studying me.

I finish off the last of my coffee. I'm still worried. Even though Liz says she's not after HB, it doesn't mean he won't be after her. I can foresee him following her around endlessly, trying to win her back while I just disappear into the woodwork. I can't compete with Liz, even if she's not in the race. HB's heart will always belong to her first and foremost… after all, I'm just the replacement.

"John?"

I look up from my brooding.

"Do you want to get out of here for a couple hours? You look like you could use it," Liz suggests.

That idea sounds excellent. It would be nice to pretend like I have a normal life for a little while. "Yeah, maybe we can catch a movie or something."

Liz puts her hand on her chest with a look of mock surprise, "Are you asking me on a date, Agent Myers?"

I can't help but laugh. Liz hasn't been in a mood good enough to joke in a long time. I'm glad she's starting to get her head on straight. She's been through a lot.

"If that's what you want to call it, then I'll even buy the popcorn," I toss back.

She smiles, "Deal, but I get the tickets."

We abandon our coffee and make our way out of the Bureau, talking and joking, but our trip gets halted abruptly at the security door to the elevator. I scan my card and type in the code, but the door doesn't budge. "That's weird," I mutter. I rescan and get the same result.

"Is there something wrong with it?" Liz asks from behind me.

"I don't know," I answer as I try it one more time.

One of our security officers comes around the corner at a brisk walk. He must be here to fix it. This door is the only route to the outside; they need to replace it if it's malfunctioning. The Bureau can't afford the risk of us not being able to get out.

"Your security clearance has been revoked, Agent Myers."

"What?" Why would my clearance be revoked? I work here, it's not like I can be kept like Abe or HB.

"Due to recent circumstances, Director Manning thinks you should remain at the Bureau until your behavior has been evaluated," he states simply.

"I work here, I'm not a prisoner!" This is a load of bull. There's no way Manning can pull this shit on me. HB can be put in timeout, he still acts like a little kid… plus his adoptive father was head of this department since it was founded, but it's not like I have his behavior.

The security officer laces his hands behind his back and plants himself between me and the door, "Director Manning gave me my orders, and you aren't permitted to leave. I don't have the authority to override his decision; you'll have to take your complaint to him."

Either this guy hasn't worked here very long, or he's just an asshole, "He doesn't have an office here. How am I supposed to complain if I need to leave the building?"

Liz touches my elbow, I guess in an attempt to cool me off. When did my attitude get this bad? I'd say I'm relatively calm person, but everything's been pushing my buttons today.

"I need to go out for more film anyway; do you want me to get something for while I'm out?" Liz offers quietly.

If Manning's home office wasn't hours away in DC, I would ask her to go burn his ass off, but that would be a lot of trouble for her. "No, thanks," I say instead.

She nods and gives my shoulder a departing pat. The officer moves aside for her. I try not to glare at him. "I guess I'll be on my way then. Coworkers are tastier than pedestrians anyway," I toss sarcastically.

Manning's probably right to revoke my privileges; my brain-mouth filter isn't working too well. Before I say something worthy of a solid punch, I stomp back towards the gym.

Right or not, I can still stay angry at him.

TBC…


	4. Decisions

- HB

I bet Myers is taking Liz out on a date right now. They're probably drinking coffee and walking through the park and she's taking pictures of him. Damn! And the worst part is that I don't know who I'm more jealous of, him or her! Damn, damn, DAMN!

I went after them about an hour after they both stormed out of my room and saw their oh-so-close chat they were having in the cafeteria. Myers moves faster than I do! He was flirting with me this morning! Crap, maybe he wasn't. Maybe I was just hoping he was. Either way, it sure didn't take him long to move onto Liz! I should squash the little shit… for reasons I haven't figured out just yet.

John maybe a commitment, but I'm going to have to decide whether or not he's a commitment I'm willing to make, and fast. I'm going to have to grab him before I lose him. I once said I'd never give up on Liz, and that's still true, in a way. I would've faced all of hell for her then and I still would, but it wouldn't be for the same reasons. Thing is, I don't even know what I'd do if she changed her mind and decided she wanted me back.

Hell, when did this shit get so complicated? Before Liz, there wasn't anybody I was really, REALLY interested in. There was this real sharp gal that used to work for us back in the 60's, but I was just a kid then (a very big kid). Point is, there's never been two people at once.

I've been pacing my room ever since I witnessed their cafeteria session. The only option I can think of that seems reasonable is to let Myers know full-well that my attentions aren't a joke; it's how that I'm still a bit fuzzy on. I considered asking Abe to give me an idea on what would work for Boyscout, but I know he'd just turn me away with some 'the minds of others are not mine to pry in' bullshit.

How do normal guys do this? You give some flattery and ask them on a date, right? I should probably start with an apology. I bet Myers is still steamed about what I said. It may have been true, but he'll be glaring at me for days.

Alright, apology first, let him know I want him, and… what next? I can't exactly take him out on a date. Meh, I'll figure that out when I get to it. First, I have to get through a few barriers.

I head back to the cafeteria. It's doubtful that they'll still be there, but you never know. I glance into Liz's room as I pass by and see her emptying plastic sacks onto her bed. I stop and lean through the doorframe, but don't see John anywhere. They've cleaned up the gore since last night though, that's good.

Liz looks up from sorting through her things. I'm kind of big to be sneaky, so I'm not really surprised she noticed me. That's alright, I should probably lay down the law with her, "I want you to stay away from John."

Liz crosses her arms over her chest, "Jealousy doesn't become you Red, you're the wrong color for it."

Smart ass. "I'm serious, Liz." I leave her with that. I probably should have asked her where Boyscout is, but there aren't too many places he can be. Besides, it's kind of like asking a lion where your safari partner is. That might be a little harsh.

I narrow down his normal haunts to the gym. If he's pissed, he's working out. I greet the handful of guys in the locker room, ignoring their blank looks of surprise. I don't usually use the Bureau's facilities, so it's probably more shock than anything. Whatever.

I scan the gym, starting at the treadmills, but I spot Boyscout beating the hell out of the punching bag. His shirt's lying on the ground near his feet and I watch his bare upper body for a few seconds, enjoying the view. Myers is built pretty well for a human. He has defined muscles and perfect skin that's got to be soft to the touch.

He throws a particularly hard jab low on the bag and turns to me, "Can I help you?"

He's definitely pissed at me. I don't blame him.

John keeps assaulting the bag, executing a series of quick, fierce punches to the middle. The bag is swinging like crazy, so I walk around and steady it. He's getting a lot of force behind his hits, more than I thought he was capable of.

"I want to talk to you, 'Scout."

"My name is John, Hellboy, call me by it."

Ouch. He's really pissed. He doesn't usually mind being called by the nickname I picked out for him. I guess an apology is in order. I hate apologizing, but I owe it to him.

"John."

He doesn't stop.

"Hey, quit for a second so I can talk to you."

John throws a beautiful kick and slams the bag into my hand. That was a damn hard hit. The wolf guy did say he would have an increase in strength, but hot DAMN!

"If I'm going to be able to pull my own weight, I should keep working," he snaps, emphasizing his words with heavy blows.

I sigh. It would be really easy for me to subdue him, but I doubt he'd listen after that. Flattery's the key, right? "You know, you're beating the shit out of a three-hundred pound bag, I think you can pull your own weight just fine."

He pauses, his fists held at the ready. Since he seems like he's waiting, I continue, "I'm sorry, 'Scout."

"For what?" he presses, dropping his hands. He rolls back on his heels, his stomach muscles flexing enticingly with the changed position. I have to drag my eyes up before I remember to answer him. Shit, what was the question again? Right, apologizing, "For, uh, for what I said. It wasn't true." Did I mention that I hate apologizing? 'Scout's about the only one I'd do it for.

John grabs his shirt from the floor and tosses it over his shoulder, giving me an extremely stubborn look, "If it wasn't true, why did you say it?"

He would ask that. "Shit Myers…" I don't get much further.

"You worry about me when we're working, don't you?"

I push the bag a bit. What am I supposed to say to that? I'm so bad at this… "Yeah, but you're always getting in trouble. Every time I turn around you're getting hit by cars and eaten by wolves and smashed by sledgehammers and…"

"I get the idea," he grumps, heading towards the locker room.

"Damn it, that's not what I meant!" I grab his arm, "I can't deal with it!"

Those big brown eyes turn to me and I really want to kiss him. I resist the urge and plow on, "You just can't take hits like I can, but you're right there like you think you can! If you get smashed by something, that's it, you're gone! I just don't… know… I don't know what I would…" I trail off. This is so damn embarrassing, but John's expression says that it wasn't in vain. Ugh… sacrifice yourself on the alter of dignity and all that.

"It doesn't really matter anymore," he drops his eyes and mutters.

What's that supposed to mean? Oh god, I really hope this isn't an overly dramatic 'I'm quitting' kind of thing.

"Manning's revoked my outdoor privileges. I probably won't even be allowed to leave with you on the next assignment. He thinks my behavior needs evaluation."

Well, at least he's not leaving. "That sucks." An idea pops into my head, one that will get us both screamed at, but would really brighten 'Scout's day, "Let's break out for awhile."

"Like break OUT, break out? Like need to be hunted down in the city kind of break out?"

"Yeah. You ever been to Central Park?"

A smile comes through his concern, tentatively at first, but getting brighter the longer he wears it, "You know, I never have. But won't we get in trouble?"

"Have you ever actually seen Manning back up his threats?"

"No, but he makes plenty of them," he stops, and his brow furrows, "Do you mean now, in the middle of the day?"

I stare at him. Is he serious? "You know, I wouldn't mind going now, but I think there's a few things people would notice. What do you think?"

He blushes slightly, "Right, later then."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After an extremely successful late night escape and John's trip to a convenience store for beer, we're walking through a deserted Central Park. And I didn't have to break down a wall this go round. I did a bit of roof jumping to get here, while John kept to the street.

John's lucky to be like Liz, a freak that can stand in plain sight. I have to duck behind a shrub or tree every time somebody comes close to us. I'm not jealous, I mean, I'm used to it, but it does make things difficult.

We keep out of the lights, so there aren't too many encounters with the 'normal people'. I've got pretty good night vision, but John acts like its broad daylight out. He spots things like squirrels way ahead of us that are sitting in complete darkness. I don't think he notices the difference, but it's pretty obvious to me. I'm going to chalk it up to him being a wolf.

John pulls a beer off the six-pack and grins at me, "Thanks."

"For what?" I pull off my own beer, transferring the leftovers to my tail.

"For this," John says, making a sweeping gesture with his free hand. "I don't think I'd ever have the guts to break out on my own."

"When you're stuck down there for longer than a day, you'll get the guts," I joke. Actually, it's more of a true statement than I'd like to admit. That place drives me crazy sometimes. There's only so much TV I can watch in a day.

John takes a long swig of beer and stares down at the can for a minute. When he speaks, he sounds sad, "Do you think Manning will forcibly keep me in the Bureau? I mean, do you think he'll keep me under strict surveillance like you and Abe, or will I get to come and go like Liz?"

I think my stomach just dropped into my feet, "Why? You thinking about leaving?"

Scout kicks a rock out of his way, his eyes rooted firmly to the ground. That's not good. "I don't know HB… I feel like I should…"

His pause does not help my unease, "Should what? Should leave? Should quit? Should-"

John cuts me off, "Should be someplace where I'm not going to hurt anybody!" He looks up at me then with an expression that's torn between fear and something else, sadness maybe.

So we're back to the 'I'm a monster' conversation. Crap. I think this might be a reoccurring theme for a while. There has to be a better way to get this out of his head than reassurance, "Look, don't do anything drastic. Go get your behavior evaluated by the wolf gu-"

"Dr. Andrews."

"Whatever, Dr. Wolf Guy, but have him take a look at your behavior and he'll tell us whether you need to do anything about it."

John nods and takes another swig of his beer. A smirk creeps onto his face and I know the idea's appeased him for now. "I want to know what exactly he's a doctor of. I doubt they give degrees in the field of lycanthropy."

He's got a point. "It's probably something irrelevant, like musical theatre."

That gets a laugh from John, "Oh hell, I hope not! I would think it would be in zoology or something!"

I shrug, "You never know. The Bureau's been known to hire some pretty weird people by street credit alone."

Boyscout laughs again and polishes off his beer. I hold out the remainder of the six-pack so he can grab another. We walk in silence for a while. Central Park is supposed to be a haven for New Yorkers, but, even at 2 AM, I can still hear the traffic. The city that never sleeps…

Myers stops and points, "What's that?"

I have to take a few steps back before I can see through the trees. Assuming he's pointing at the illuminated castle, and not some random object he can see with his insane night vision, I answer, "I think that's Belvedere. It's this tiny castle you can walk around." Albeit, I've never been closer to it than a few hundred yards.

He changes course and walks backwards towards the castle, talking to me while he does so, "Let's go see it."

I would protest, it's a well-lit tourist attraction where there's good possibility that there will be cameras, but John gives me a grin I can't say no to. If I end up on the news again, Manning's going to pitch a fit of epic proportions. He's usually really good about shutting that kind of talk down, but I think people are starting to doubt his word at this point. I get grouped in with Big Foot and the Loch Ness monster, except people have more pictures of me than both of them combined.

John keeps moving towards Belvedere, turning just before he encounters a tree. He shoots me a sheepish look and sidesteps it. Goober. He really is cute despite it, or maybe because of it.

I have to jog to catch up with him. What's the likelihood that a tourist's going to be at the castle this late anyway? If somebody does snap a picture of me, I'll chase them down and take the camera. Who's going to believe that Hellboy chased them around the park when they don't have any proof?

Belvedere is pretty cool up close. I've been in older places, but I know there's not some demon or crazed sprite ready to take off my head when I step on the grounds. Cool, but very tiny. John and I only take about a minute to circle it.

"That's almost anticlimactic," Myers comments as we come back around the front.

"Meh," is all I have to say. I finish my first beer and chunk the can. "We should've gotten two six-packs."

John leans back to peer at the top of the building. "You want to go to the top?"

"Hell, why not?"

Belvedere is in multiple levels because it's on the side of a hill, so we head up as far as we can without having to break into the building. Myers stares at the next level like it's a mile away.

"How are we going to get up there?"

It's really not that far, maybe a floor and a little bit. I could jump it easy. "I could toss you," I offer.

John rolls his eyes towards me in an obvious 'no'.

"Or I could give you a boost."

"That sounds like a better plan."

I kneel and John climbs up on my shoulders. Instead of giving me a chance to stand, he uses me like a springboard to grab the next ledge. He disappears over the edge in a graceful sweep of his body.

"Hey, I said I'd give you a boost, not let you play 'hop on pop'!"

John sticks his head over to look at me, "You were the one who offered. Besides, I doubt you've ever read that book. You must have been at least 40 when it came out!"

I grumble and jump to grab the edge, digging my feet against the rock to get enough leverage. We hop one more level in the same fashion and get settled at the top. John grabs the second to last beer. The cans got shaken all to hell while we were climbing, but I think I'll let him figure that out on his own. I'm disappointed when he sets the can down and gets propped up against one of the battlements. Oh well, it would've been funny.

I fall onto the roof beside him with a sigh. We've got a pretty good view of the city from here. Lights spread out in every direction over the trees. Pretty romantic I'd say, but I don't want to jump the gun. Boyscout's a little skittish. Then again, what do I want here?

There is that whole commitment thing, but people make commitments all the time, why can't I? The only difference is that marriage always has the option of divorce. But Abe said the commitment starts at sex, so dating can't hurt anything. This could either come out really well, or turn to shit, but I don't think it'll be anywhere in-between.

I must've been quiet for a long time, because John clears his throat, "What are we doing here HB?"

"Drinking beer," I say, and pop open the last can. It foams up enough to spill over my hand, but doesn't explode everywhere.

John picks up his forgotten beer, "Is this a date?"

I guess this is the time to make a decision. I'm thinking that I'm sick of being alone, "If that's what you want it to be." Was that too vague? Doesn't matter, it's out now.

John glances down at his unopened can, fiddling with the tab for an inordinate amount of time. Crap… I jumped to conclusions. Wait, but he was the one to ask me if we were dating. If he didn't want to be on a date, why would he bring it up?

My impatience get's the best of me, "I was kind of expecting an answer to that."

He doesn't say anything. Instead, his arms go around my neck and he kisses me.

Hell YES!

I wrap my arms around his back and pull him to me. He gets repositioned, practically in my lap, and opens his mouth when I touch his lips with my tongue. Fucking fireworks go off. I don't think I've ever had a kiss this good. It goes out of control real fast though; John's hands are sliding up under my shirt and mine are going down his jeans and the thought enters my mind that I should just screw his brains out here and now. John groans and straddles my hips, his body pressed tight against mine. If I can't get myself under control in the next few seconds, there won't be any turning back.

Does John know what'll happen if we do this? I don't think he does. Damn it, my conscious would kick in at a time like this.

It's a little harder to push him off than I would have imagined. He gives me a confused look for the interruption. "Slow down a minute, Boyscout."

"Why?" he asks, leaning back in. I have to plant my hand on his chest so I can get a chance to speak. I want to keep swapping spit just as much as he does, but there has to be an order to things.

"You have to be sure that I'm what you want," I say.

John shifts back and I can see irritation overtaking his confusion, "I think I've made it pretty clear that you are."

Oh hell, I can see this heading south real quick. "That's not what I mean. It's just different now that you're a wolf."

His eyes narrow.

I rush through that statement, since he obviously took it the wrong way, "I mean, you don't have all the facts about this."

"I think there's only one relevant fact here: whether or not you want me."

"There's more to it than that." As soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize that I should've started that sentence with 'yes'. You know what they say about hindsight and all that.

John's on his feet a second later, muttering something about 'he should have known better'. I barely catch a flash of yellow in his eyes when I grab his wrist. There's no way I'm letting him leave this roof so pissed. I doubt he'd eat anybody, like Manning seems convinced of, but he might do something he'll regret.

"Boyscout, would you just hold on for a damn minute? It's not like I don't want to screw you senseless right here, it's that you don't have a clue what that'll mean as a wolf."

He stops pulling at my hold on him long enough to listen. 'Scout must be terrified of rejection, considering the way he acts. I wonder what happened to make him like this? I'll figure it out later. I can only deal with one drama at a time. "A wolf takes one mate… ever. I just don't want you to get stuck with me if… you know…"

John's eyes get softer and I can feel him relax under my hand, "Even knowing that, you still want me?"

"I've been single for sixty years. It gets kind of boring."

Myers grins, "You, bored of bachelor life? Seems unlikely."

I return his smile, "Yeah well… I mean, Liz didn't work out and there aren't any other girls at the Bureau, so you were the next best thing."

He punches my shoulder for the comment, but there's no anger in it. "Ass," he grumps and flops down beside me.

I lean in and say, "You know you love it," just before I kiss him again.

TBC…

Just FYI, I've caught up to my handwritten copy, so it may be a longer break between updates now. I wrote most of this, not sure whether I liked enough to type it, but now I've figured out where it's going and I have to get it there. Bear with me, because I'm writing as fast as I can. We're getting close to the action now.


	5. Fired

- John

I watch Hellboy's broad back as we hurry into HQ. He's ticked. Our date in the park was going fantastically, considering we were back to making out only moments after our argument, until my cell started ringing off the hook. It was Liz. Manning had arrived at base with an assignment and we were nowhere to be found.

Liz said she would try and cover for us, but I doubt she could cover the amount of time it took us to get from New York to New Jersey without transportation. It's a pretty good walk, especially if you're trying to stay undercover. We snuck a ride on the back of an 18-wheeler for a good portion of the trip, but I'm not sure how much time we saved. I foresee a vicious chewing out in our immediate future.

I trot so I catch up to HB. I can't really fall into step with him, considering I have to take two or three strides to his one, but I do my best. I'm really hoping that he's not going to do something, like yell at Manning for interrupting our date. He currently looks like he might.

"You're going to need to calm down, Red. Manning's tolerance level's been kind of low lately. If you do something to piss him off, he may actually kick us out."

He stops to look at me, practically whining, "But it was going so well."

And there's his child coming out again. I try to keep from smiling at the immaturity of it. He may be an adult, but there's that rare occasion that he just can't act like it. "We'll go on another date. I know you can get out, no matter how many locks they put on your door. I mean, it's already a vault, how much more could they add?"

HB fishes out a cigar and lights it, "That's why I go through the wall."

I have to grin at that. They have to fix that wall about once a month. I think the Bureau's expenses would go down if they'd quit locking him in.

"Maybe," I start, and take the cigar from him, "we should listen to Manning for a little while and let his jets cool." I have to stand on my toes to kiss him, but its well worth it. When I pull away, he's got an answer to my idea.

"Where's the fun in that?"

"I don't know… but at least his blood pressure would go down," I say against his mouth. He smirks and closes the gap between us, deepening the kiss. HB's stone hand curls around my low back, sending tremors up my spine. The stone is cold, especially against the exposed skin between my shirt and my jeans.

I must have shuddered or twitched or something, because he pulls his hand away and furrows his brow.

"Sorry," he mutters.

"Don't be."

We go back at it, despite the fact that we're on the BPRD grounds and Manning's probably organizing a hunt for us while we kiss. Somehow, it doesn't matter. How am I already addicted to this? It's like I can't get enough of his lips and the feel of his body pressed against mine. His hands leave trails of fire on my skin that consume me.

I know HB wants me to think over the whole 'mating' concept, but I'm not sure I can make it past tonight without him. It's an ache so deep it's more hunger than lust. It's a hunger that, if ignored, will either kill me or drive me mad. That seems a little dramatic, but that's what it feels like. If you've never gone longer than a day without food, then you wouldn't know this kind of hunger. Except, scratch food and replace it with Hellboy.

The Bureau has cameras all over the lawn to scope for potential intruders and it would be best if we weren't caught… doing things out here.

I manage to pull away a fraction of an inch to speak, "HB, we should go inside."

The big red lug grunts, completely ignoring the suggestion. His lips are back against mine and I have to fight with my urge to keep going before I can break it off again.

"We need to go inside," I pant. I would just pull out of his grasp, but the arm around my waist is holding me a foot or so off the ground. It makes things difficult, especially since HB's just switched tactics and is kissing my neck now and it feels… wonderful.

No, this has got to stop before we get caught.

HB slides his tongue across the hollow of my throat and my next warning comes out as more of a groan than words.

What makes us both stop cold is Liz's voice, "Red! John! Get your butts in here now before I char-grille them!"

Oh dear God, she saw us… Heat spreads across my face and down my neck. I'm probably crimson with embarrassment.

HB seems far less bothered by her intrusion. He sets me down and turns to her, "Come on Sparky, you know that threat's no good on me."

For that comment, Liz gives him the look that spells death, "Now HB! And I don't ever want to hear the words 'cover for us' again if it involves me running Manning around in circles while you two make-out on the lawn!"

I don't want to get in the middle of this, not to mention the fact that I left the Bureau the first DAY that I was suspended, so I hurry around to the door we used to get out. It's an emergency door I never knew existed. By the state of the halls and stairwell, I doubt anyone else knows about it either. Seems to defeat the purpose of it being an emergency exit.

I'm about halfway down the stairs when I hear Liz and HB enter above me. They're still arguing. Actually, it's more like Liz is arguing and Red's just nonchalantly rebuking her. He seems awfully relaxed. I'm hoping that's my effect on him.

I poke my head into the hallway first, I guess to ensure that Manning's not waiting there with his arms crossed. I can hear Liz saying that she left him with Abe to buy us some more time. "I said I was coming to get you, but that was almost thirty minutes ago."

"It's fine. I bet Abe's running him through some ridiculously detailed information about something. He probably hasn't even noticed how long he's been standing there," HB shrugs off the idea like we were talking about what we'd had for dinner, or something else of minimal importance.

A hand slides down my arm and I look back at Red. He takes his cigar from me with a slow, sweet smile that melts me to the core. A stupid giggle emanates from somewhere and all I can hope is that it wasn't from me.

Liz breezes past us, "Let's go love birds."

Manning glances up as we push open the doors to the briefing room. "You're late," he snaps. I can't stop my cringe. I can see our actions falling towards us like a hammer and the retribution might very well be more than the stern yelling we expected. If he starts with the small crime, he'll build up to the big fouls while his face steadily darkens. When he gets to the point that he looks like he might have a heart attack, he'll be making threats on our jobs.

"Yeah well, we were busy," HB brushes him off.

I can't help but give him a mortified look. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Abe making a small gesture. I'm not sure whether it's meant as a 'back off' or 'calm down', but when all Manning does is tell us to sit down, I realize he's trying to let me know that it's under control. The Director never found out that we were missing.

I hold back my sigh of relief and fall into the chair next to HB. Beneath the table, his hand sneaks over to rest on my leg. Despite myself, I smile at the gesture. I don't think Manning noticed, or he would have told me to 'wipe the grin off my face'.

Instead, he boots up a slideshow that depicting a map of Venice and starts the brief. I take notes, like always. I think I'm officially on a different level than the other agents around the table. The chaos of the past few days has pushed me from agent to freak. When we start discussing teams, I even get my own group assigned to me. It's kind of a big jump from being a follower. Then again, my group's mostly in place to keep an eye on me.

Over the course of about half an hour, Manning breaks down everything. There's been a rash of disappearances in Venice. People have always gone missing, usually contributed to suicide or accidental death, but the numbers have increased dramatically over the last year. There have also been sightings of an unusual creature in the water, but no photographs or hard evidence.

I glance over and notice HB nodding off. This is why he's usually not brought into staff meetings. He doesn't need much of a briefing, just information about what to shoot and where. I toe his leg to wake him up.

Manning is cranking towards his conclusion, "So, we need to find out what it is, how to kill it, and get it done. We've got another team biting at our heels for this one, so don't screw up. Questions?"

One of the guys up front raises his hand, "There's another team like us?"

It's an irrelevant question to the case and I catch Manning roll his eyes at it. Did that guy go through the FBI training program? Because that was definitely something they covered in basic.

"Not exactly like us, but yes. Are there any questions related to the mission?" Manning asks pointedly, giving the agent the evil eye while he talks. Nobody else speaks up, so the meeting breaks. He yells his final orders over the clamor of everyone scuffling for the door, "I want everyone prepped and ready to leave in 30."

I have to nudge Red again before I start packing up my notes. He doesn't move. Liz leans over and holds out a pen, "Don't wake him up, we can draw on him." She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. I smile at the idea, but we both drop it when Manning comes around the table to us. I give Red a sharper kick to the leg that makes him sit bolt upright.

"I wasn't sleeping," he mutters in an extremely unconvincing slur.

Ignoring HB's behavior, Manning addresses Liz and me, "Ms. Sherman, Agent Myers, if you're both going to attend this hunt, I'd like you to be outfitted with a locator. We coordinate them by color, so Myers, you'll be green and Ms. Sherman will be white. Those will be available to you upon landing. Make sure you pick them up before you enter Venice."

Liz nods and I give him a standard 'yes sir'. When Manning's left us to our own devices, HB leans over my shoulder, "We'll be Christmas colors, 'Scout."

"A true observation, but silly," Abe says to him.

"You did all hear the 'be ready in thirty minutes' thing, right?" Liz asks from the door. I check my watch, we're now down to 27 minutes and I have to get my things and HB's. As his assigned agent, I do most of that. Though, you'd think a grown demon could pack his own socks and underwear.

"Right, let's go."

I start in HB's room. If I don't have enough time to pack my bag, I'll buy some things when I get there. Red gets his suitcase down for me and proceeds to file his horns. He knows he has to do it now, or he won't get a chance to. I won't let him take the filer with us; it makes the bag too damn heavy.

I run the list of necessities through my head, tossing things in the suitcase in the order I come to them. No one's really sure how long this case is going to take, so I'm thinking three days of clothes should do it, and only because HB's stuff tends to get torn up while he works.

I grab his jacket from the chair it's hanging on and start to ask him whether he wants to wear it or pack it when the door opens. Agent Henderson comes in, looking nervous and carrying a Baby Ruth. I've only worked with Henderson on a handful of cases, but I know he's a crack-shot sniper. If he's in here with candy, then somebody sent him in with bad news, or at least news that might upset HB. Red eyes the candy bar suspiciously, drawing the same conclusion I did. Something's going on.

Henderson clears his throat, fiddling with the packaging on the Baby Ruth, "I'm to take over as Mr. Hellboy's liaison and Director Manning has asked Agent Myers to report to his quarters."

"But this is my job." The whine comes out before I can stop it. It makes me sound like a little kid. I try and tone it down and regain my dignity, "I've got this covered." Part of me knows that the fact that the order came from Manning means no arguments, but he has no reason to take this from me. I haven't been shown as unfit for my work in any way, so he better have a damn good reason for this.

Henderson glances over his shoulder, for backup maybe, but doesn't get any. "Um… but Manning…"

"Manning can bite my big, red ass. John's the only one I want doing this job," HB practically growls.

My 'replacement' holds up the candy like it'll keep Hellboy at bay, stuttering on, "As… As far as I know, John's going to be under someone else's care."

"What? I do not need a babysitter!"

The other agent cringes away and I remember that he's just the messenger. He doesn't need us to tear his throat out over Manning's decision.

HB takes a breath to say something but I reach over and put a hand on him, "There's nothing he can do about what's been decided. I'll just go for now." I can tell Red doesn't approve by the deep frown cutting across his features.

"But 'Scout," he starts.

I interrupt, my words directed at Henderson, "You don't need to get too comfortable, because this isn't permanent." There's no need to drag this on, we do have a time limit to keep. I head for the door, but my unease about this whole situation rises up out of my anger. Henderson doesn't know the ropes and I know HB's not going to be very helpful.

"I've packed just about everything, but he still needs a couple pairs of pants," I say, trying to keep on top of all this. "And get your toothbrush, HB."

"'K," he mumbles. I'm not sure whether he's bummed that I'm being replaced, or irritated that I'm taking the 'mom' tone (as he calls it).

I hesitate at the threshold. It's not like I'm not going to see him again, but my position as his liaison is what brought us together. I'm not sure he would've noticed me if I was just another agent. Maybe he would have. It doesn't really matter now, but I still feel like the position's being stolen from me.

An arm circles my waist, startling me. I know who it is by the smell of strong tobacco… that, and there are only two people in the room behind me and I highly doubt the sniper would hug me.

"Go on 'Scout, I'll see you in a few."

"Yeah… okay," I say quietly.

His lips ghost across my neck and he whispers in my ear, "We can join the mile high club on the way to Italy, huh?"

I feel heat spread across my face. The idea sounds fantastic, but I'm not sure I'm bold enough to risk something like that. Maybe I should get bold.

Oh hell, Henderson is probably watching. If the Bureau doesn't know what's going on between HB and me yet, they sure as hell will now. I guess it couldn't stay a secret forever, especially if I start sleeping in his room at night.

Forget them! I am not going to sneak around like this is some kind of condemning fact. I wanted HB and now I've got him, so let them react how they're going to. I doubt it'll turn into Quantico all over again because I'll defend myself this time. If they want to fuck with a werewolf, then they're insane. Besides, HB would squish anybody who messed with me.

These agents have encountered some extremely bizarre stuff in their time at BPRD, so homosexuality shouldn't be that strange, right?

I twist in HB's hold and kiss him fully, enjoying his surprised grunt. He tightens his hold on me when I open my mouth to his, and I slide my arms up onto his shoulders. When we part, I have to glance back at Henderson, more out of morbid curiosity than anything. He's refolding the stuff in HB's suitcase. I should be pleased that he's not gaping at us, but instead, I feel a slight sting at the fact that he thinks my work needs redoing.

Red follows my gaze and I catch his blatant eye-roll. "Go pack your own stuff, 'Scout," he says, giving me a nudge out the door. "He's not doing it to piss you off."

"But your things were folded fine…"

"John."

I shut up at the 'no more arguments' tone he gives me, "Alright… I'm going."

I throw a glance over my shoulder as I go. HB's still leaning in the doorframe, presumably watching my ass as I walk. He gives me a sly grin when I catch him staring. I shake my head and turn the corner.

He is so shameless, but I think that's part of what I like about him. HB moves through the world without a fear or thought of consequence, while guys like me jump at every shadow and order. I know I could never be like him, but it doesn't mean I can't admire him for it.

My train of thought is broken when I enter the corridor with my room. My door is standing open. I reach for the gun at my hip, even though it's unlikely there's a threat. This place is more secure than Fort Knox. I can hear somebody rifling through my things, somebody who's wearing WAY too much cologne. So much so that I have to cover my nose with my sleeve before I can go inside.

I take a quick visual sweep of my room before I fix a glare on the agent standing at my dresser. He must be new, because I've never seen him before.

I should start off friendly, but I end up with, "Why are you in my room?"

He rolls right through that question with a smile and an extended hand, "You must be John."

I don't pull my hand away from my face. I think I might pass out if I did. He looks at me strangely, but doesn't seem too flustered by my behavior.

He drops his hand, "Well, I'm Agent Ellis."

"I've never met you before."

"I just transferred from Washington… are you alright?" he finally asks.

I don't want to be mean, or rude, but the man smells like someone broke a bottle of cologne over his head. Is there a cordial way to say that?

"Um… your cologne is a little… strong."

"Is it?" he takes a whiff of his lapel. I don't know how he could survive the assault on his senses without a migraine. I swear my eyes are starting to water and I'm six feet from him.

"I'm assuming you got briefed on all this?" I ask, shooing him away from my dresser. He shifts out of the way without too much non-verbal coaxing. He glances around the room, probably looking for something else to do, before I start handing him things to pack. I try to ignore the massive slap my nose takes when I pull my sleeve away.

"Yes, and I met Abe earlier today. This is all very fascinating. I mean, who knew that all this could go on without the public-"

I interrupt, not because I'm irritated or anything, but I am short on time, "Did you get briefed about me?"

He folds up the pair of jeans I handed him and tucks them in with the others. By the look of my extremely organized duffle bag, which is difficult to keep organized mind you, I'd say Ellis has a bit of an OCD streak.

Once he's got everything situated, he looks back at me, "You know, I don't really think they've told me much of anything about you. I know you were an agent, then something happened, but they were a little non-specific as to what. I think they gave me more detail about the Bureau itself."

Was an agent? That stings a little. What am I classified as now? "Right… well, add this to your 'weird shit' list. I got transferred here from Quantico about six months ago to be a liaison for Hellboy."

His eyebrows arch at that.

"Yes he's real, and if you haven't met him yet, you will. Point is, I went out on a mission and got torn up by a werewolf. Now I am one. I'm not like the others here. I've lived out in the world and I know how to take care of myself, no offense to you or anything."

"I got it. Why don't we think of me as more of a butler? If you need anything, you can let me know," he says, smiling.

I wasn't expecting an idea so reasonable. Is he just trying to put me at ease? I nod a little and retreat into my bathroom to grab my shaving stuff and comb. After rustling around a bit, I ease the door open to see what he's doing. Ellis is standing near my dresser with his hands clasped in front of him. Maybe he actually means to respect my request. That would be nice.

Do I do that to HB? I mean, HB's used to it, he's always had people taking care of him, but I don't want to be suffocating… But Manning fired me from that! I've got to have a talk with him. Red doesn't take well to new people. Then again, I haven't been the picture of civility towards Agent Ellis. Good role model, John…

Would it really be so bad to be like Abe and HB? It's not like I did anything but work before I got here and I don't really have any family to speak of since Uncle David died… I guess I could live here. All of my worldly possessions are at the Bureau, so what difference would it make?

TBC…


	6. Duality

- HB

The BPRD garbage truck arrives at a top-secret airstrip a couple miles past Hanover. It was a long, boring trip, when I wasn't doing something to make John a particularly cute shade of pink. He told me about Erin, his new babysitter, and that he's coming with us to Venice. I figured he'd be more irritated about him coming along, but he seems okay with him. Then again, he didn't have many complaints once I'd pulled him in my lap, but he barely remembered to breathe through his embarrassment. Liz laughed at the whole thing and Abe smiled knowingly.

He glares at me while we get loaded on the cargo plane, but I can see the little smirk hiding behind his blush. I like that look. That look has promises in it. The flight's about 13 hours long. Most of the agents buckle down with laptops, work, and movies on trips like this. There's always some last minute briefing about an hour before landing, but that leaves a damn lot of time to kill, so we have plenty of time to do… almost anything. I doubt Boyscout will do anything too scandalous, but I can hope.

All of our weaponry is already loaded in the back of the plane, stacked in crates. It would be a good place to hide. I point it out to John and he goes from pink to red, "No HB! Everyone would hear us."

I can't help but tease him, "That depends on how loud you are."

'Scout turns a shade of red I've never seen before, almost my shade of red, but that's just not normal for another person.

"Shit 'Scout, breathe," I laugh, giving his back a slap. He kind of stumbles and I grab his arm to keep him from falling. I really should be more careful about that.

The agents accompanying us are all settled against one wall, leaving us the seats in the back. There's always this divide between the humans and the freaks, even though we fight back to back on a regular basis. We work well together, but I guess our weirdness factor keeps them from breaking that 'friend' barrier, with the exception of 'Scout. He was really the first agent to actively try to make us feel like people. Clay was pretty good about it, but he never spent any time with us outside of what he had to for work. Well, and Dad, but I think it's an exception when they adopt you.

We're used to it, but John isn't. He looks over at the other agents with a crease in his brow. Liz leans in and nudges him with her elbow, "Don't let them get to you."

He smiles, but it's forced, "I won't. It's not a big deal."

I fall into one of the unoccupied chairs and pat the one next to me. John drops into it. Liz takes the one across from us and Abe adjusts his breathing thing before he gets settled with a book. I should've brought something to do, besides John. The thought makes me smirk. If we went at it that long, neither of us would be any good to the Bureau when we got to Venice. Abe glances over at me with a look of disapproval, probably gleaning some of my ideas.

"What?" I shoot at him.

"I didn't say anything."

Liz shoves her bag under the seat and looks up at me with that damn smile that says she knows exactly what's going on, "HB, get your head out of the gutter."

She knows me too damn well… Then again, Abe's told me more than once that he doesn't need to read my mind. I can't be that easy to figure out… 'Scout's the only one that hasn't caught on yet. He's pulling a file folder out of his briefcase when he looks up, "Wait, what?"

Clueless, but adorable.

Abe smoothes things over easily, "Nothing to worry about, John," but of course, he can't leave it at that, "You'll know soon enough anyhow."

"Huh?"

I give Abe a hard glare that doesn't bother him and try to cut this off, "Never mind, squirt."

The damn fish chuckles, not helping to ease Boyscout's curiosity any.

"Know what?"

"That your boyfriend's a pervert," Liz tosses in.

"I am NOT!"

John starts laughing then, but not just a short chuckle, he's practically in hysterics. Between breaths, he jumps on the 'pick on HB' train, "I think you're going to have a hard time arguing that, Red."

He's learning to give as hard as he gets, that's not good. I won't be able to tease him soon. Maybe. Then again, he is John, the easiest human being in the world to embarrass.

I don't say anything. Let him think he's won this battle. Instead, I pull him over so he's leaning on my shoulder and I run my fingers through his perfect hair. He's got gel in it today, so it's not as soft as it normally is. I fool with it until the gel flakes out. 'Scout whines a little at me for messing it up, but it's halfhearted.

The last of our agents get loaded and we get underway. Manning's either in the cockpit or a private plane, because I don't see him amongst the grunts. We don't have much intel about the mission, so I'm guessing he's got nothing else to talk to us about until we get there. Scratch the hour brief towards landing.

There is a guy introducing himself to the others. That's got to be Allen… or Ellen, or whatever the hell his name is. He seems pretty friendly, I guess that's why John likes him okay. 'Scout's not really the best judge of character, but if this guy pulls anything, I'll rip his head off.

Meh, maybe I'll just give him a good smack down, but I'm thinking that it kind of depends on what he did to deserve it.

I keep petting Boyscout's hair, kind of absently, but I don't realize it's put him to sleep until the files fall off his lap. Papers scatter everywhere, maps and schematics for the mission slide down the walkway.

"I'll get it," Liz whispers.

She starts scooping up the stuff near us and Boyscout's babysitter jumps in to grab the rest. They kind of meet in the middle and the babysitter sticks out his hand. Liz stares at him a minute before she takes it. He introduces himself as Ellis. I guess I was a ways off on his name. He starts with Liz, but doesn't have any hesitation approaching the rest of us. Abe greets him like he's known him forever (I'm going to have to ask how he met him and the rest of us stayed in the dark) then turns to me. He hesitates, but I expected it. I am a pretty ugly bastard.

The babysitter glances at John, who's sound asleep now, and holds out the papers to me, "You must be Hellboy."

"What gave you the clue?" I grab the documents while Liz says something to the effect of 'be nice'.

Most guys would've been uncomfortable trying to answer that, but he just rolls right along, "You're the only one I haven't met yet." He keeps his voice low, trying not to wake up 'Scout, but the kid did just sleep through take-off without so much as squirming.

"I'm usually the last one to get introduced. They don't want me running everybody off."

"Actually, you're often last because you're usually grounded when new agents enter the Bureau," Abe adds his two cents without looking up from his book.

John starts sliding off my shoulder, but I wrap my arm around him before he makes a dive for the floor. Now, I've got an armful of Boyscout, a handful of papers and not a lot of room to maneuver. Ellis moves forward like he's going to grab something from me.

"I got it," I tell him, winding my tail around 'Scout until I can stash the papers. I push up the armrest between our seats. It makes a weird cracking noise before moving, and I'm thinking I just broke it, but it stays put. I lay 'Scout so his head's on my leg and go back to petting his hair. There's not even a hitch in his breathing during all this. The boy sleeps like the dead.

Abe tosses two more cents into the conversation, "Red doesn't accept help from much of anyone. I wouldn't be concerned over it." Hell, when Blue's got an opinion, he's going to give it to you.

Ellis looks from me, to 'Scout, then back to me, probably trying to figure out why we're so comfy together. "Well, if no one needs anything, I'm going to go back to my seat," he says with a smile. This guy's just way too pleasant. It's almost unnatural.

I lean back in my chair and let 'Scout sleep. It's been a weird couple of days, so he could use the shut-eye. He's got the right idea. A nap wouldn't be so bad about now. Maybe a nap, and then a snack.

- John

It's dark, but I can see everything. The forest is trying to be silent in my passing. I can sense the doe cowering to my left and the rabbit barely breathing in the bushes ahead. Terror rolls off them in tantalizing waves. If I wasn't after something bigger, either one would make a good meal.

A fox passed across my trail not long ago, searching for a mate. I ignore the scent. I press my nose to the dirt, inhaling the earthy decomposition and something else: human… prey.

My hunger stirs.

It's a decent sized human, male, and he's far more frightened than any creature near me. The beasts in the woods are afraid because I'm a predator and I could chase them down and destroy their survival instinct. The man is afraid because I'm a terrible thought, a monster seen only in nightmare that will not stop until his blood pours between my teeth. His fear is better founded.

I'm close to him now; I can almost taste him on the air. The smell of his sweat is sharp and pungent in my nose… he's very close. I leap into a full sprint, stretching out to my complete length, feet pounding against the dry leaves. His trail is clear now and I can follow it easily at top speed.

My ears pick up his ragged breathing just before he comes into sight. It only takes two strides to catch him. My teeth sink into his leg and he falls like a dead tree, screaming things in human. He turns to me, his face twisted in horror while I lunge for his throat.

I know him… or knew him, perhaps in another life. Whatever connection we once had, friends or rivals maybe, it's now been replaced by predator and prey. I don't hesitate to make the killing blow.

Blood showers my muzzle from the gaping wound in his neck. I tear off a piece of flesh to chew on while I admire my work. The human is still struggling, clutching at the yawning void of his throat. In three beats, his heart has pushed enough blood through the opening to kill him. Red stains his clothes to match the mess on my fur. The color makes me think of my mate. He'll be getting hungry soon too. I should share my kill.

Footsteps sound in the forest near me, but they're footsteps I know well. My mate treads heavier than I do, because he can take down prey twice the size of what I can. I'm fast, he's strong. We work in perfect tandem, but not on this kill. I'm proud to say that this one's mine.

I tear into the man's insides, eating the good parts. His heart's hard to get to, tucked beneath the bone, but is by far the tastiest organ. I dig at the ribs for a minute before I give up and push my muzzle beneath them. The treat tears free easily.

My mate comes into my clearing and speaks to me, but in human, "'Scout." He should know that I don't speak human. I don't answer.

While I devour my prize, I watch the man's face. I do know him, I just can't remember…

"John."

It hits me like a blow from a bear, it's my face. My human face. He… I open my eyes and start screaming, trying to push my insides back where they belong. The wolf dives towards me, his teeth gleaming in the moonlight. I pull up my arm to fend it off, claws extend from my fingers and fur spreads like fire. I tear into the beast's nose and I meet his growl with one of my own. He bites my shoulder, I claw his chest, and we roll in a tangle of fur and teeth.

"John!"

One of us will survive this; the other will become a meal, a feast, a conquest! I'll rip his throat out!

- HB

I wake up because John is twitching like crazy. Poor kid's probably having a bad dream.

"'Scout."

His brow scrunches up and he rolls against my side. Jeez, he's hot. I mean, yes he's adorable, but his skin is warm. I touch his shoulder, then his face. He's definitely got a fever. I start to tell Abe about it, but John's skin RIPPLES underneath my hand. That's the weirdest fucking thing I've ever felt.

I look down at 'Scout. When his skin does the weird thing again, it even looks like a ripple. He twitches and whimpers and I'm thinking he needs to wake up now. Something's going on in his head and it's really freaking him out. Hell, it's freaking me out and I don't even know what it is.

"John," I say, giving his shoulder a shake. His head kind of rolls to the side and I see his ears getting sharp on top. He's changing. Oh crap! He can't change in here! He's got nowhere to go if he freaks out and there's a lot of people crammed in this plane. I don't think he'd hurt anybody, the other agents are more likely to do something to him, but it's not a good situation.

I shake his shoulder again without much response. Liz asks what's going on, but before I can say much of anything, John starts screaming and flailing like he's trying to keep something from getting at him. Fur sprouts on his arms. He's got to wake up now or he won't be able to stop changing. His screams change to growls and his thrashing gets more frantic.

I grab him and pull him to me, yelling "Oh hell, John! Wake up!"

Finally, his eyes snap open. They're bright yellow, but they only stay that way for a second. He's got that completely bewildered look, the kind you get after a nightmare, or car accident, and is muttering something about a wolf and eating and it being him.

I understand John having dreams about this stuff, I mean it only happened two days ago, but I'm really hoping he doesn't shift every time he has a nightmare. Then again, we're not usually in a place that it would be a problem.

Every single agent is looking this way. John's scream put everybody on high alert. Ellis is about halfway out of his chair, trying to figure out whether he should help or let me handle it.

"What the hell are you all staring at?" I snap and they all find something else to look at pretty quick.

Boyscout starts coming down out of his terrified haze, enough so to recognize me and latch on like I might leave. I wrap my arms around him and look up at Abe curiously. I don't have to ask him outright, but I'm hoping he caught some of what's going on in 'Scout's head.

He relays his info quietly, "It was about his duel existences destroying each other."

That was about as helpful as a pool toy in the desert. What the fuck does that even mean? I'll get my answers from the source, when he stops shaking like a leaf. 'Scout sniffles and shifts his arms up around my neck, sort of worming his way farther into my lap. Funny that it embarrassed him to be in the same position earlier.

"It was me…"

It was barely a whisper, but I'm sure that's what he said. "What were you?"

John presses his face into my neck. He's making it really hard for me to control myself, considering I think he's hot when he's grinning at me, let alone curled up in my lap.

"The wolf was eating me…"

Not all that surprising, considering.

"But I was the wolf."

"Okay, wait… you were a wolf, being chased by a wolf?"

He shakes his head, which I feel more than I see, "No. I was a wolf, hunting a human that was me."

"Your brain's a weird place, kid," I say softly, kissing the top of his head.

John's quiet for awhile and I'm thinking he's going to be content to stay wrapped around me for a couple hours. I was starting to nod back off when he says something else, "You were there, but we were…"

I sit up a little, curious.

"…mated."

I grin and tease him because I know he's already turning red at that idea, "Aw, not mating? Where's the fun in that?"

My comment wrings a slightly hysterical laugh out of him. He sits back to look at me and I brush his bangs off his forehead. He's still pretty worked up.

"It was just a dream, babe," I say, not really sure what he needs to hear. I guess that works okay, because he kisses me and curls back up.

A couple stray pairs of eyes from the front of the plane obviously didn't learn the first time they were caught staring. I'm about ready to start cracking skulls up there. I glare at them and slam my stone fist into my open hand, to give them a better idea of what they could be in for. They occupy themselves with other things very quickly.

"Stop threatening the other agents," 'Scout mumbles.

"I wasn't threatening anyone."

"Bullshit, Red."

How the hell could he have known that, he wasn't even looking? "Yeah, okay, but they were staring."

He laughs again, this time he sounds calmer. I want that whole 'mating' thing to be a reality, but we haven't exactly had a chance to do anything and the immediate future doesn't look promising. I'll probably have to stay on the damn plane while we're in Venice, but they'll put up anybody who can pass as human in a hotel.

Ellis comes over a couple minutes later, "Is everything okay?"

John groans and nods, but doesn't say anything. I fill in the holes, "Nightmare," and get punched for it.

"HB!"

The babysitter smiles at John's reaction. That guy really does grin too much. I bet he used to work for an airline. Aren't stewards supposed to be notoriously pleasant? "Can I get any of you anything?" he asks, making sure to look at Abe and Liz too. "Drinks, more reading material, or a snack maybe?"

Oh yeah, it is definitely time for some grub. The others decline, but I'm starving. Speaking of, where the hell is Henderson? Isn't he supposed to be taking care of me now? The little rat better take his job more seriously if he doesn't want to get pummeled.

"Yeah, I want some nachos," I tighten my arm around 'Scout when he tries to get up and get my food. It is habit after all. "And maybe some sub sandwiches with the works, and find Henderson and tell him to get his lazy ass in gear and help you, it's his job."

John twists and tries to break free. I don't know why he thinks he can. "Let me help; he doesn't know the ropes yet."

"What kind of ropes does he need? He's making food," I say, holding him still.

Ellis smiles (again. Doesn't his face get tired?) and reassures Boyscout, "I think I can handle a plate of nachos and a sandwich."

A sandwich? A singular sandwich, as in not more than one? Maybe this guy does need supervision or I'll starve to death.

'Scout jumps in before I can correct him, "No, when you're making food for HB, you need to make what you normally would for about five people."

"Seriously?" he asks.

I try not to roll my eyes at him, "I'm a demon. I need a little more food than you do. Look, get Henderson, he knows the drill."

"He's sleeping."

"Then wake him up and tell him I'm hungry. If you don't, I will."

When Ellis goes, I loosen my grip on 'Scout. He props his hands on my chest and sits up, "You should just let me go help."

"It's not your job anymore," I remind him.

John's expression falls. Does that bother him? Technically, he got promoted, even if it does come with a few restrictions.

"Your job's the same as mine now. You get to hang out until something nasty needs killing. You don't have to worry about anything else."

Abe looks up from his book, to add, "We are cared for and given amenities because we provide a service few others can. You should not feel as though you are… what's the common word for it now? Ah, mooching."

"But I can't do what you two can," John argues. "I'm more of a burden than a help."

Liz cuts in, I didn't even realize she was listening to this, "That's not true. You've kind of become the heart of the group since you got here. Besides, you don't really know what you're capable of yet."

That gets a smile from John, a cute, bashful smile. "Really?"

"I would have to agree with Liz. While I don't believe the professor could have know the kind of circumstances that you would go through, he did handpick you for a reason. He knows all of us," Abe gestures around our circle of chairs, "very well and must have known you would be our compliment."

It's still hard to hear Blue bring up Pop, but he's got a good point. I'm going to have to doubt that Dad could have predicted the werewolf thing, let alone that 'Scout and I would start dating. I mean, while he was a little loose in a few boundaries of his belief, he was a devout Catholic and I KNOW that homo-anything is frowned on by them. Doesn't seem to stop their priests from liking little boys… Meh, doesn't matter.

He may not have intended for this to happen, but it did and it's perfect. It's not like I listened a hundred percent of the time anyway. He didn't like me smoking cigars either, but it didn't stop me.

I think he'd just be happy that I'm happy.

"He would have been," Abe says.

It's the first time I don't grumble at him for reading my thoughts.

xxxxxxxxxx

TBC…


	7. Demons and Humans

I really didn't want to make the beginning of my last chapter sound like I wasn't going to write anymore, but that's the way a few of you took it. I'm going to finish this; I just didn't like the new movie. They're totally separate things… Enjoy this new chapter and sorry for any confusion or panic this may have caused.

- John

We land in Venice, with strictest of gag orders on the airport. Manning must have taken a private jet, because he meets us on the landing strip to make sure Liz and I get outfitted with communicators before we're released into Italy.

He tells us the plan, which is to meet up at approximately 2300 hours to start the mission. That's when the streets will be quietest. It's also about when jet lag will be kicking in the hardest.

After our incredibly short brief, Manning recommends that everyone take in the city now, because it might be the only chance they get. Once we wrap this thing up here, we're headed home. He also suggests that they snag some rest at the hotel before we get to work.

I stand on the loading ramp to the plane, watching the other agents disappear into the city of water. They're all in gaudy tourist clothes to keep from drawing too much attention to our presence here.

I'd like to go see everything, but I'm not going without HB. I don't think I could enjoy myself if I knew he was here sulking (which I know he would be). I do need to find a convenience store though… for a few… needed items. Only thing is, I have to take Ellis with me. It's embarrassing enough having to buy that kind of stuff anyway, let alone with somebody standing over my shoulder.

"I'm going to go into town," I state for general consumption. I get an expected grumble from Red. He really hates being left behind. "But I'll be back in a minute," I say directly at HB.

He perks up a little, "You're not doing the touristy thing?"

"No," I put my forehead to his, settling between the stubs of his horns.

"Well, I am," Liz says as she passes us.

Abe sets down his third book of the day, "Would you take a photograph of the Library, if you don't mind. I've heard it's lovely."

"Sure, Abe," she says, adjusting her communicator. She makes a face at it and finally just shoves it in her pocket. "See ya."

I wave and look back at Red, finishing the thought I had earlier, "I'm just going for some stuff I forgot." I was hoping I could say it without blushing, but I can feel the heat crawling across my face. Now he's definitely going to know that something's going on.

HB curls his hand around my waist with a grin that just screams trouble, "What kind of stuff, John?"

It was supposed to be a surprise and I am not so gullible that he can pry it out of me with a grin, "That is none of your business." I twist out of his hold and smile over my shoulder as seductively as I can, but I'm betting it just came off as goofy. Either way, I get a good response from him.

I hear HB ask Abe if I'm getting him a present and I'm grateful at Blue's aloof, 'Who knows?' I trot right past Ellis and down the loading ramp tossing, "I'm ready to go," as I pass.

He doesn't look up from his PDA, "If you need me, just give me a call."

I don't think he really understands his job yet. I'm grateful that he's willing to give me my space, but Manning will be pissed if he finds out Ellis let me enter the city on my own. "You have to come with me," I tell him.

He glances up then, his brow furrowed, "I do?"

"Yeah, you do. Manning will have your ass for breakfast if you don't accompany me. You're his attempt to minimize PR clean up. He thinks I'll do something stupid without a babysitter."

"Oh," is all Ellis says before coming down after me. "That doesn't really seem fair."

"Tell me about it."

Venice really is a beautiful place. HB and I are going to have to take a tour later, with or without Manning's consent. Actually, I already know the answer to that question, so we probably won't even mention it to him. I've snuck out once and I'm already considering becoming a repeat offender. HB's wearing off on me.

When we find a convenience store, it looks like it should be a historical monument, but every building in the area looks like that.

Ellis makes a beeline for the magazine rack. I'm not sure how long that'll occupy him, so I ask him to find me some beef jerky too. If I'm lucky, it'll be more of an American thing and it'll take him twenty minutes of searching to figure that out.

I find the aisle I want in the very back of the store. Considering Italy is primarily Catholic, I'm not surprised it's hidden back here.

Now, the next question is: do they have condoms in HB's size? I don't have a good idea of what size I should get; it's not like I've seen him naked. The best guess I can make is based on the fact that he's huge everywhere and by staring at the front of his pants (thankfully I've never been caught staring).

Maybe I should be more concerned with lube…

The eighteen thousand different types and flavors of lubricant are a little overwhelming. That's definitely more variety then you'd find at an average CVS. It's probably more than you'd find at a sex shop, but I can't say that with any experience.

Hell, the last time I did anything was when I was 22 and my then boyfriend, now scumbag, supplied everything. It was supposed to be this romantic evening, and it was, then he broke up with me the next morning. I went to Quantico a few months later and didn't look back, but I did briefly consider egging his car before I left.

I pick up a box of condoms labeled 'magnum' size. Do they get any bigger than that? Most of the others are just 'medium' or 'large'. I guess if you're extra large, you start getting into nicknames like magnum, or horse.

"The ribbed kind are always good."

If embarrassment levels could reach critical mass, this would be that moment. I whip around. Ellis is right behind me, what the hell happened to my distraction?

"Where's the beef jerky?"

"Oh, I didn't find any, but I found what I think might be potato chips," he holds up a bag and gives it a shake. Whatever's inside sound heavier than chips. "Can you read Italian?" he asks, flipping it over to examine the back.

I drop the condom box back on the shelf, trying not to look as mortified as I feel, "You couldn't have been gone more than a minute, how did you search the entire store?"

"I didn't… so, who're planning on sharing those with?" he motions at the rows of condoms. "Liz?" he adds, with a suggestive eyebrow wiggle.

Okay, so he's nice, but seems to have the attention span of a fish and might be entirely clueless.

"Did you miss the plane ride?" I ask, picking up a regular bottle of lube. Why does it come in flavors? Seems weird. I set it down.

"No, why?"

I can't stop my sigh, "I was in his lap for about half the trip."

Ellis pauses for a couple seconds and I can almost hear the wheels turning. "You're sleeping with Hellboy?" he finally exclaims.

And now the entire store knows why I'm in this aisle. "Keep it down," I hiss. If I could crawl inside a hole and die, I would. "We haven't done anything yet, but I was kind of hoping…" I mutter, tailing off.

He seems surprisingly okay with all of this. He didn't get that classic disgusted look, or take a few steps back, or anything like that. Instead, he pops open the bag of chips, and sticks one in his mouth.

"You know, demons don't always mix so well with humans," Ellis says softly.

It was such a sudden change in attitude that I think he might have some experience behind those words. I look back at him, but he's completely blank-faced, not showing a single clue as to where that comment came from.

I have to ask, "What makes you say that?"

"I think these are dried fruit," now he's just being evasive intentionally.

"Ellis…"

He sticks a few more pieces in his mouth, his eyes glued to the shelves. I'm beginning to think that he's not going to say anything when he grabs a box off the shelf and tosses it at me. He goes right back to smiling, "I dated this girl that turned out to be a Succubus. Well… not so much dated as ended up in a one-night-stand with. She, uh… she tried to feed on me."

He starts walking towards the front of the store and all I can do is follow numbly. "She tried to eat you?" I barely remember to keep my voice down.

"Yeah… barely got away with my bits intact, if you get my meaning. This was in Washington, by the way, but when I went back to work, they tried to convince me it didn't happen in therapy. When I wouldn't believe them, they shipped me to BPRD," he says and drops his half-empty bag and a magazine on the counter.

While he's talking to the clerk, I glance down at the box he gave me. Its single serving lube packets. I would laugh at the concept of making lube into a condiment, but little packages are more convenient on the go. Then again, how much sex do people have on the go? Usually they wait until they get home. It's as good as anything I guess.

I drop the box on the counter when Ellis is done and pay for it. The cashier gives me a little smile and bats her eyes as she bags it up. I try to ignore her flirting, mostly because she looks like she's in her mid-forties.

That's kind of a funny judgment, considering how old HB is. I snag my purchase and hurry out after Ellis.

"I think she liked you," he says. He's already flipping through his magazine, something with a really hot car on the cover.

"Isn't that in Italian?" I ask.

He holds the magazine wide to show me a picture of a bright red Ferrari careening around a corner, "Do you need to read Italian to appreciate that?"

"Nope." He has an excellent point.

I pull out my purchase and rip open the box, sticking a few of the 'servings' in my jeans pocket. Better safe than sorry. "I forgot condoms," I slap my forehead. It was what I came out here for. I turn to head back for the store, but Ellis grabs my arm.

"I wouldn't worry so much about that."

"Huh?"

"You're a werewolf and he's a demon, what kind of STDs do you expect to catch?"

Okay, so I hadn't thought of that. Its just habit I guess. Safe sex is kind of burned into your mind from the time you hit puberty, so condoms are the first thing that come to mind when sex is involved. Or hopeful sex…

"Hey, um…" Ellis starts, but gets quiet. When I glance up at him, he presses on, "Sorry about what I said. I didn't want you to think that I was judging him."

"It's okay. HB does get that a lot though, so don't say anything like that around him."

Ellis goes back to his cars, finishing our conversation with, "Sounds like a plan."

I walk behind him, spending the rest of the trip staring at the back of his head and trying to figure him out. I don't come to any conclusions before we get there.

- HB

Myers and I spend most of the day sleeping, since there's not much else to do and we're going to be up half the night looking for our 'mystery creature'.

I was mildly disappointed when he came back with a pharmacy bag and not something cool. It's not like I'm into touristy 'I heart Venice' kind of shit, but it was something I would have pegged Boyscout for getting. Oh well.

I actually don't sleep as much as he does. For the most part, I sit with him curled up against me, which I don't mind at all. Sometimes, he's awake too, but we don't really say anything. I don't know if that's… normal. I hope it is. This can't be going downhill already.

When agents start reporting in, Abe and I get geared up. It's showtime.

John straps his gun against his hip and gives me a nervous smile. He's got to be twitchy going into this; it's the first time he's gotten to fight with us on this level. Not that anything's stopped him from doing it before, but now it's actually in his job description. He's gone from pamcake pusher to guardian of mankind. Big jump.

"I'll watch your back," I tell him, hoping it helps. When he starts fiddling with a seam, I realize it really didn't. I grab his arm and pull him to me, kissing his forehead. "Relax kid, you'll do fine. It's not like this is your first rodeo."

"Yeah, you're right," he says with that same weak smile.

Myers may be nervous at the start, but he always finds his nerves before the end. I'm not going to worry too much. Hell, if I told him he couldn't come, he'd be raring to go.

We head out to the southern portion of the city, where most of the disappearances have been centered. A couple of our guys are armed with motion detectors while another has an infrared scanner. Abe's more useful than either of them, but we'll let Manning think his equipment is 'helpful'.

It's late enough that we don't encounter anyone on the streets. Unlike New York, when there's not a party, Venice is pretty quiet. At least that's what I'm going to assume. Hell if I know, if I ever get to go out of town, I'm usually the one in the crate marked 'live cargo'. Makes a guy feel good…

Abe moves ahead of us, his hand stretched out in front of him. I'll never get how he picks up information through his fingers. He stops at the edge of a bridge and holds his hand over the water. "The creature has been in these waters for a very long time," he says, shifting his hand from side to side, "It has grown large and hungry since it arrived."

"Wanna go for a swim, Blue?" I joke.

"I would much prefer to get a lock on the creature's location before I jump in, Red," he returns easily.

"But we could rig a fishing pole for you. You'd make great bait."

Off to the side, I hear Manning complain, "If this turns out to be a shark, we're all going to look like idiots."

"It's not a shark," Abe says immediately. "It's older than that, and bigger."

"Bigger than a shark?" Myers kinda squeaks behind me. He's been doing just fine with our work, but his first encounter with anything still freaks him out. Eventually, he'll stop being surprised with the rest of us.

We keep moving, coming to a boat dock filled with gondolas. Abe stops again, but this time he's kind of rigid, "It's here."

Agents look every direction with guns drawn. I guess they forgot it's only ever been seen in the water.

I join Abe at the edge of the canal and peer out. Water's too dark to see much of anything. We could use some submerged floodlights or something. "Can you tell what it is," I ask Blue.

"I'm not entirely sure, but I have a good idea," he answers, going over to the agent holding his box of books.

While Abe fiddles with his reference material, I lean back out over the water. I'm really hoping this thing is hungry enough to come to the surface, 'cause I don't… swim well. But you wouldn't either with a sixty-pound boat anchor attached to your wrist.

Boyscout comes up next to me, "Are we going to need wetsuits for this?"

"Maybe he'll come up to say hi," I comment.

"Her," Blue corrects.

John glances over at him, "How do you know it's female?"

Blue slides one of his books out, after some of his usual finger waggling, and flips it open. "I just do," is his answer. "Here we are. I believe our friend might be a siren."

"A siren? We got dragged all the way out here for a siren? Couldn't somebody else have handled this?" I complain. I mean, seriously? Why doesn't somebody just pop a cap in her ass and be done with it?

Wait, didn't Blue say this thing was big? I've never actually seen a siren before, but how big could they get? Last time I said that, the bastard I had to fight was pretty damn big, so maybe it's best not to question it.

John grabs my sleeve and points out across the water, "There she is."

I don't see a damn thing at first, but, when I squint, I spot a half-naked chick in the canal.

That's it? She doesn't look like much, just a pale girl with big boobs. I take aim with the Samaritan.

"Red, you should probably hear this information," Blue says as I'm tightening my finger on the trigger. "Unless it has something to do with resurrection, I think a bullet to the brain should do fine, Blue. I can handle it."

I squeeze a shot off and completely miss her. She sinks back into the water.

"Crap…"

John raises an eyebrow and looks over at me, "You really need to work on your aim." He laughs at my glare. Glad he's relaxed enough that he thinks he can mock my marksmanship. I should take the brat across my-

"Red, this is important," Blue starts again, "The human figure a siren shows itself as is a ruse to lure in her prey…"

"She isn't that cute," I cut in.

Like usual, Abe just rolls through my interruption, "But her most useful lure is her voice, which can be hypnotizing."

Got it, don't let her sing. Easy enough. She just needs to show her face again and I'll put an end to this real quick.

John is scanning the water carefully while our team splits up to get better positions. I note that Manning's gotten way the hell out of the battle zone and is letting us handle this. I would call him a chicken for it, but it makes my job easier.

Liz spots the bitch next, "She's right there, between the boats."

I take aim. She's close enough now that there's no way that I'll miss, "Say goodnight."

Then there's this voice…

- John

I put my hands over my ears the moment the siren starts singing and yell at HB, "Shoot her!"

He doesn't move, or fire, or even seem to hear my voice. It's like he's in a catatonic state. I glance around and realize that the other agents are in the same condition, everybody except Abe and Liz.

Liz pulls her hands down and shrugs at me, "Why aren't we affected?"

"I don't know," I answer. "Abe, what's going on?"

"She's drawing them in. A siren's voice only works on those who would be attracted to a female human," Abe explains quickly, putting his book back in the box. The agent holding it doesn't even blink.

I understand it not affecting Liz, and I'm pretty self-explanatory, but I wonder why she has no affect on Abe? I'll have to remember to ask later. I try not to be ticked at the fact that HB's just as easily put under as everybody else, though, he did date Liz for some time. I really don't want to think about that.

"We don't have long before she will begin-"

The first splash startles me, mostly because I have no idea what it was, but I see the second agent plunge into the water.

"She's calling them to her, she must be silenced quickly," Abe yells.

I pull out my gun and clip her shoulder, without much of an affect. She ducks behind a boat before I can hit her again. "Damn it! Toast her Liz!"

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot HB moving towards the water. I run over and grab the back of his jacket. It's like trying to stop a train. I dig my heels into the street, but I can't get enough traction… I'm just sliding. Actually, I don't think traction is the issue, I think it's that he weighs THREE TIMES what I do!

"Liz, now!" I yell.

She's got her hands started, but her brow is furrowed, "I can't! She needs to be closer!"

I hear the next agent drop into the water and his disappearance is followed closely by the smell of blood. She's eating them, she must be. The texture beneath my shoes changes and I realize that HB's dragged me onto the dock. This isn't working! I can't stop him by myself.

"Red, snap out of it!" I beg, going around and planting myself against his chest. It isn't any more helpful than pulling on him. "HB, please!" I will NOT lose him to something like this!

The siren comes out from her hiding place. I whip out my gun and put a bullet square between her blank eyes. Nothing happens. She smiles at me with a mouth full of pointed teeth and keeps singing.

The woman is a ruse… so maybe she's not what I need to kill. Fake or real, she's still the source of the problem and the source of the voice.

I put another bullet in her chest for good measure, but I'm not surprised when she's unaffected. The next big splash puts a knot in my stomach. I look over at the edge of the dock where HB was a moment ago and find it empty.

"Hellboy!"

I run to the water, but I can't see far. There's no sign of him! I find myself screaming his name again and again, like it'll help. I'm not a strong enough swimmer to pull him out, but I know who is, "Abe, help him!"

She will NOT take him from me. He's mine! I turn, feeding off the pulsing heat coursing through me. It makes me feel stronger, more powerful. It clears my head. "Liz, get repositioned! First chance you get, you fry the bitch!"

Abe's in the water before I can finish with Liz, but I don't wait for him to resurface. I yank my shirt over my head to get it off my burning skin. I may not have willed the change, but I'm ready when the pain hits me. It's not like the first time, the pain is much more bearable and I can feel the raw energy taking over very quickly. The wolf kicks in seconds later and it knows exactly what to do: defend my chosen.

As soon as I'm on all fours, I'm running full force. The siren is about twenty feet from the end of the dock, so I'm going to need enough behind my jump to reach her. I circle around to give myself some distance and bolt for the edge. The deck rings hollow beneath my feet as I pound across it. Every inch brings me closer to tearing into her.

I push off hard and, for just a second, I can fly, before I come down on her like hell itself. I miss her throat in my first lunge, my teeth scraping across her shoulder instead. A foul taste explodes in my mouth. She has the flavor of a dead fish that's been out in the sun for several days.

Despite my attack, her song continues uninterrupted. She writhes under my weight, trying to toss me off, but I dig in where I can. I snap for her throat again and miss. Sharp pain rips through my chest. She smiles, that horrid, pointed grin and lifts me up over her head, her claws still buried in my chest. I thrash, kicking at her and growling, but she tosses me off into the water.

It takes me a second to get oriented. I can't tell up from down and the water is dark with blood. There's a large mass in the water beside me. As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I realize that the woman is more than a ruse, she's just a lure. The siren's true body stretches out for hundreds of yards, curled in and out of the pylons keeping the city afloat. Ragged spines and fins jut off her body like ancient armor. They pulse and flatten in a rhythmic pattern to keep her positioned.

A massive, gaping mouth cuts across the creature's face, the gore from at least one human litters her teeth. She shifts slightly and I see Abe dragging HB to the surface a few feet from her. My lungs burn for air, but she twists towards them and Abe can't swim any faster dragging Red's weight.

Rage burns through me. They're my pack! I target the only weakness I can find, her gills, and tear into them with teeth and claws. Her acrid blood pours into the water to mingle with the human. I dig deep beneath the first layer, grabbing a mouthful of anything soft and making it into ribbons. I do as much damage as I can until she slams sideways into me, pushing me deeper.

Her wild thrashing takes her out of my vicinity and I swim towards the surface. Paws aren't as good for swimming as hands and feet. I can't seem to get to the surface fast enough, it's so far away. My chest feels like it's on fire and black is crawling at the edge of my vision. This isn't good.

I breathe out what's left of my air to buy time and watch it float away. My limbs slow. They feel like weights, so hard to move. I can't stop my need to inhale, breathing in lung-fulls of water. The black in my vision accelerates and I can't seem to care.

Funny… my paws are hands again… I didn't even notice the change…

The last thing I see is something falling into the water above me, and then everything is dark.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

TBC…

HB didn't get much to say in this one, but he'll get plenty of the next one. By the way, out of pure curiosity, I'd like to take a vote on which voice ya'll like better, John's or HB's.


	8. Consummated

- John

I cough hard and vomit dinner and a lot of water.

Disgusting…

My head is pounding, probably from the lack of oxygen. Somebody must have pulled me out. I'm wrapped up in HB's coat, but my clothes are piled next to me. Nice to know that I was completely naked when I was rescued (note sarcasm). Agents are sprawled in various states around the docks, they're all soaked. I do a quick count. We're down two guys. I expected more than that, so I guess we did okay.

HB was sitting on a wall a few feet from me, talking to Abe, but he got up as soon as I started moving. I throw my arms around him the moment he's close enough, I can't help it. I nearly lost him… but HB's probably been through a lot worse than that, just not with me present.

"You should grow gills before you try something like that again," he laughs.

It's a nervous joke, told because he doesn't know what else to say. I think I've got HB figured out. Behind his jest there's a 'you scared the hell out of me' that won't get out without plenty of prodding.

I kiss him hard and get equal in return. He doesn't complain about the nasty taste I'm sure my mouth has, just kisses me.

I need him. I need to be his. I don't know whether the urge is wolf, or human, or both, fueled by current events, or by something deep-rooted, but I must be his.

We break off and our eyes lock. He's got the same idea, I can see it. We don't say anything. I grab my clothes and we disappear into the nearest alley while Manning's back is turned. I tug the communicator off his belt, then mine and toss them both. I don't want any interruptions.

While we maneuver the back streets, the brain in my head finally kick-starts and I remember what we were doing before the whole team nearly drowned, "What happened to the siren?"

Red looks back at me, "About the time I woke up, the bitch was going crazy, thrashing around and screaming. She went under, and when she didn't come back Abe went in to figure out what happened. He pulled you out and said she drowned. How the hell does a fish drown anyway?"

"It loses the use of its gills," I say quietly.

"Yeah, that's what Blue said, but it still sounds funny."

We stop in a silent back alley and HB scratches his head, "I don't know where the hell we're going to… I mean, it's not like we can get a hotel without-"

I don't give a shit where, I need him NOW! I grab the front of his shirt and crush my mouth against his, leading us backwards until I hit the wall. His flesh hand curls around my back, while the stone one plants on the brick by my head.

His lips are hot and hungry against mine, demanding things I'm more than willing to give. I open my mouth to his and frantically duel with his tongue. I need more! My hands go up under his shirt to map the planes of his chest, encouraging his to do the same. He pops open the buttons on the front of his jacket and I gasp when the air hits my wet skin. The cold is very quickly forgotten as he abandons my lips in favor of kissing down my exposed body.

Some tiny part of my brain that's still online notes, with some amusement, that HB picks me up to do so, instead of leaning down or getting on his knees. It's fine by me. I wrap my legs around his waist the second my feet leave the ground.

I can hear myself whimpering, but I can't seem to get a hold of my voice. It's an embarrassing noise to make. Why can't I groan or sigh like a normal person? Then again, the keyword in that sentence was 'normal'.

HB smiles against my skin. "That's cute," he murmurs. I have no idea whether he's referencing my vocal oddities or something else, but I don't really care when his lips return to mine.

I stop flexing my fingers against HB's shirt when I hear it tear. He pulls away a fraction of an inch to look at the damage, and then gives me an irritated expression. "I go through enough clothes without your help, Boyscout."

The mischievousness rises out of nowhere. Honestly, I don't normally have an ounce of it in me anywhere, but it comes on strong. I hook my fingers at the hem of the shirt and drag them down, ripping the fabric from one end to the other. HB raises a brow at me and the only thing I can offer in return is a maniacal grin.

"Let me handle my pants, would ya?" he says as seriously as he can.

I lean in close, brushing my lips against his ear with my answer, "Then get them off fast."

He does, undoing the belt and fly in record time, even with my hips in the way. Free from its confines, his penis slaps against my backside. I can tell it's massive by the feel of it and remember that the lube I brought is in my jeans on the ground. I'm going to need it.

My body trembles with the thought of HB buried hilt-deep inside me, but first things first. I unlace my legs (much to Red's confusion) and drop to the ground. When I lean down to grab my jeans, I'm distracted by his absolutely perfect cock at my eye level.

HB is teetering on that edge between impressively massive and laughably so, but just barely. I've never been with a man so large. That's the kind of penis a gay man only encounters in his dreams, or in porn, but in porn you know it's enhanced.

I wrap my hand around him to measure the girth with my fingers, there's about a two-inch gap between my thumb and middle finger. Gently, but firmly, I squeeze and work my hand up the shaft, smiling at HB's groan.

He grabs my arm and hauls me up, "Not that that isn't nice, but I'd really rather do it another way."

Agreed. I crouch, grab the lube packets out of my pants, and tear one open. About the time I'm considering asking him whether he wants to prepare me or if I should, my modesty kicks back in. I'm not sure where it's been hiding the past twenty minutes, but it slaps me back down to earth with a blush and a complete lack of words.

What makes the blush worse is when HB seems to know exactly what I meant to say, stepping forward to pull me against him. He takes the packet and picks me up to resume our prior position.

"You done this before 'Scout?"

I nod, sheepishly. I almost wish he were my first…

"Good, that'll make it easier, right?"

I nod again and laugh slightly when his tail winds around my ankle.

He lets me hold myself up while he empties some of the lube onto his palm and works it around. His stone hand comes to rest on my low back while the other slides beneath me.

My eyes meet his when he asks, "Are you sure about this?"

I feel one of his fingers slide past my entrance, teasing it, and can't find a damn thing to say back. All that comes out is another whimper.

"John, are you positive?"

Force of habit, my uncle's words fall from my mouth before I can stop them, "Only fools are positive." He used to say that every time someone would ask him that question. I look at HB and add, "But I'm sure."

There's no particular discomfort from the first finger that pushes in. I may be rusty at this, but I doubted that I'd gone back to a virginal state. Red wiggles it around a little. "Is there any kind of… method to this?" he asks.

I open my mouth to answer about the same time his finger brushes my prostate. A groan escapes before words and my back arches of its own volition. When I can swim out of the haze fogging my head, I say, "No method… just stretch muscles, and do that again…"

"What, this?" he asks with a smirk, twisting his knuckle against the same spot. It takes a few moments for the sparks behind my eyes to stop.

He slides the second finger in and it burns a little. The pleasure far outweighs the pain, but he doesn't hold off long enough in adding the third. I grit my teeth until the burning passes.

"Sorry," he mumbles, kissing my neck with his apology.

"It's… it's okay." I can't fault him for it. I want to jump past foreplay just as badly as he does, but I couldn't handle… As a human I couldn't, as a wolf I can bounce back from more, right? That doesn't mean it won't hurt though.

HB's very careful to give me time to adjust before squeezing another finger in. It's not as bad as the others.

"I think I'm ready," I pant.

It doesn't really matter whether I'm ready physically, because he's out of fingers and I'm out of patience. I don't think I've ever wanted someone so badly before. He withdraws his hand and slicks himself up. "Slow, or fast?" he asks, as he positions the thick head at my entrance.

Fast! Is what I want to say, but I bite it back, "Start slow." What I want and what I need are not always in line with each other.

HB does as I ask, pushing in achingly slow. It burns so badly that I have to squeeze my eyes shut and grab Red's shoulders. As much as it hurts, it's still amazing. As much as I want to cry, I want to howl in pleasure.

Howl? Maybe I'm more wolf than I thought; it doesn't bother me as much as it did.

When he's buried to the hilt, I feel more complete than I ever have. I press my forehead to his while we pant together. HB brushes back my hair and grins. "You're paradise, kid," he breathes, kissing me.

"You're… you're pretty good yourself," I say softly in return.

I didn't expect him to catch my slight poke at his attitude, but he laughs.

"I'm rubbing off on you…" He grabs hold of my hips and pulls out slowly. Going back in though, I think he forgets to be gentle, or he loses control, because he slams in.

I scream. Sure it hurts, but my scream isn't caused by the pain. HB doesn't realize that. He stops, muttering an apology. As soon as I can crawl down from my orgasmic high, I grab his face and kiss him fiercely. I don't move away when I release him. I open my eyes and stare into his, breathing his air and reveling in the heat of his skin.

"Go… fast, hard, now," I ramble.

The concern smoothes off his face and is replaced by a grin. He starts a pace that's rough, and fast, slamming into me. After the second or third stroke, the pain is gone and all that remains is that perfect, body-wracking pleasure. It's amazing.

I wrap my arms around his shoulders, dragging my nails over what's left of his shirt. The fabric rips and shreds easily. I can see me becoming another bad problem for his clothes. He's going to start needing a new wardrobe every week instead of every month.

Heat slowly curls and gains intensity in my abdomen, bringing me closer to release, but I don't want it yet. Not yet.

I lean my head back against the wall and close my eyes, listening to our sounds. HB's heavy breathing is overshadowed by the occasional grunt or groan. The buckle on the jacket I'm wearing hits the wall with a sharp clank every thrust, making our rhythm so much louder than it needs to be. My whimpers are constant through everything.

A sharp smell enters my nose, one I'm becoming very familiar with: blood. I'm not entirely sure what the source is. It could be him, me, or even someone nearby and my mind is currently too occupied to figure it out.

I shift my arms up around Red's neck and feel something slick on my fingers. I must have torn up more than his shirt. HB hasn't stopped to notice and I doubt he will, considering his pain tolerance. I'll have Abe patch him up later.

"Harder!"

Red obliges, picking up our nearly frantic pace. One of his hands leaves my hips in favor of my hair.

"Getting… getting close," he groans.

"So close," I pant back. I don't think it was a question, but it doesn't matter.

A flash of something appears abruptly in my mind: a military base I've never been on and a much younger Professor Bruttenholm telling me to get down out of a tree. It's gone as quick as it comes.

My confusion is quickly forgotten when HB's tail snakes between us and wraps around my erection, giving me more than enough stimulation to push me over the edge. I go off with a wail that probably wakes up half of Venice. Wave after wave of bliss sweep over my body.

I'm standing in a dark, wet corridor waiting for the next attack. My gun's half-empty and I'm out of extra rounds, so this could get ugly real fast. A screeching hiss sounds behind me. How the hell did it get back there?

I snap back to reality a little more violently this time, in a cold sweat and panting. What the hell is going on? This isn't something that's ever happened before. My heart's racing, but, strangely, I'm not scared.

HB slams into me a few more times, muttering something about how tight I am, before he orgasms. The world falls away then, leaving me behind.

- HB

When the white finally fades and things start coming back under control, I manage to speak, "That was somethin' else."

I don't get an answer from 'Scout. In fact, he feels kinda' rigid in my arms, like something's wrong. I use the wall to push away from him a little. John's eyes are rolling around in his head like crazy and he's shaking.

"Oh crap, John?" I grab his shoulders, touch his face, nothing helps. "Oh crap, oh crap." I killed him! How the hell… shit! I've gotta' get him to Abe, or a hospital, or something.

I pull out of him as carefully as I can and set him down while I hike up my pants. Abe talked about the whole sex equals commitment thing, but he never mentioned anything about 'Scout having a damn seizure. If this is part of that 'mating' thing, I'm going to kill him for giving me a fucking heart attack.

I wrap John back in my coat and grab him and his clothes. I favor speed over staying hidden, taking the most direct route to the plane. The people at that outdoor bar are probably still wondering what the hell they just saw. If that gets back to Manning… actually, I really don't care whether he hears about it or not. He can cover it up.

I cut across the roof of the airport and get to the plane about the time Abe gets the door open. I'm really glad he realized I was coming.

"What's wrong?" he asks immediately, peeling one of John's eyes open. At least they've stopped rolling around. I think he's unconscious now.

"I don't know. We were… you know, and then he started having this seizure thing and now he's just out," I explain.

Abe motions to one of the empty seats and goes for his books. "Set him down if you would."

I'm getting 'Scout settled when Manning comes after me like a god damn bear. He starts yelling and screaming right away, "Where the hell did you two go? You aren't allowed to just wander off and you know that damn well! How many people saw your sorry ass? Do you have any idea how long it takes-" I stop listening.

Liz pushes past Manning (who starts screaming something about the lack of respect in the bureau), and crouches in front of John. "What's wrong with him?" she asks.

"I don't know."

The other agents can't have been here too long; some of them aren't even out of their wet clothes yet. I'm tempted to tell Manning to shut the hell up, since I've been gone a lot longer than that before, but I let it go.

"Ah," Abe exclaims, his finger marking something in his book, "I believe John is going through a common part of this process that involves an exchange of memories. It can be startling to see because it manifests itself with similar appearances to that of a seizure."

"I didn't get any memories."

"You're not a werewolf."

Alright, with that answered, I wanna know one last thing. "Why the hell didn't you warn me about that? I thought I'd killed him!"

Abe shrugs, "To be honest, I didn't think you two would copulate-"

"Use English, Blue."

"Commence in sexual activities quite so quickly."

Liz jumps in, like I could use another opinion about all this, "You two slept together?"

"Do you have a problem with that?" I growl.

She glares at me, that 'don't you give me that tone' look. I got to know that look real well while we were dating. "You know I don't, HB. I was going to say that I was glad he caught you, but I kind of feel bad that he has to put up with your shit…" She stops her rant abruptly, her eyes getting wide, "HB, what happened to your back?"

"Nothing, why?" I ask, leaning down to put a hand on John's face. He doesn't wake up, but he's not feverish or anything, so I think he'll be okay. He's got to be exhausted after all that.

"Your back looks like you had a fight with one of your cats," Liz says.

"And the cat won," Abe adds. Smart ass.

I don't really remember anything specific… oh wait… "John did it." I pick up his hand and show Liz the blood under his fingernails.

"Hey! I'm talking to you, you big ape!" Manning yells. Ape, yeah that's original.

I start to tell him off, but somebody beats me to the punch, "Shut the hell up." That sounded like Boyscout, but it's not something he'd ever say to Manning.

Manning looks just about as surprised as the rest of it, but when that passes, he just looks pissed. "What did you just say?"

'Scout jumps up and gets in Manning's face. His eyes are bright yellow. I debate whether I should stop him or let him have his say, but the priceless expression on Manning's face is enough to let it go on a little longer. "I said shut. The hell. Up. I'm tired of listening to you bitch."

Manning's so shocked, he doesn't say anything. I have to laugh. It may be the weirdest behavior I've ever seen in the kid, but it's damn funny to watch him stand up to Manning.

"We weren't even gone very long, so shut up and sit down or find another place to pretend that you're in charge," Boyscout snaps.

Manning finally finds something to yell back and they shoot off into an argument. It's probably time to break it up, since it's getting a little too heated.

Abe touches my arm and holds a book around, "It says here that, just after mating, a wolf can take on its mate's personality. It has to do with that exchange of memories."

"That explains a lot," I say back.

"You should stop this before he angers Tom into doing something drastic," he punctuates 'drastic' with a hand gesture that can't mean anything good.

"Yeah, yeah."

As I'm coming to get 'Scout, Manning glares at me, "Get your dog under control."

Son of a BITCH! Now I'm going to kick his ass!

'Scout pulls his fist back faster than I can even figure out what I'm going to do to Manning. I snag his hand out of the air. Manning falls back a step, his face completely blank. 'Scout growls and leans into me. He's calm now, but I think the damage is done.

"Fuck off Manning, or I'll sic him on you," I threaten.

He gives John a long look before he moves away. Boyscout glares right back. I hear Manning tell the rest of the team that we'll move out in the morning. He sends them back to the hotel with the order to get some sleep.

"How are you feeling kid?" I should stop calling him kid, especially if we're going to be sleeping together. It doesn't seem to bother him. He rubs his face against my chest and emits a muffled whimper.

"I can't believe I just did that," he says, slipping his arms around my waist.

"I can't either. When'd your balls get that big, 'Scout?"

He glares up at me, his face bright red. I'm thinking my personality is winding down and his is back in place. Not that you'd be able to tell if I was blushing, but I doubt that I do.

I maneuver 'Scout until he falls back on my cot (at least Henderson's on top of something. He must've gotten it set up when they got back.) John looks past me and I turn to find Ellis. The guy's still soaked. He also seems to be one of the last agents left, considering the others took off the second Manning gave the okay.

"I've got to ask. Is it always like this?" he questions, wringing out his coat.

"Like what?" John says.

Ellis looks up. He's got a bad scrape on his forehead; he probably hit something falling into the water. "Nearly getting killed on a regular basis," he clarifies.

Abe's busy changing out something in his breathing thing, but that doesn't stop him from paying attention to everything. Some call it multi-tasking, I call it being nosey. He answers Ellis before John can, "We do lose agents regularly in combat and our jobs are frequently very dangerous. You'll get used to the intensity."

"Or die," I add. John slaps my leg. "What?"

Ellis isn't really fazed by it. This guy's okay, he can take a joke and not be pissy or offended.

"Maybe," he says and looks over at John, "Did you get what you wanted?"

"Yeah," 'Scout answers with a big, goofy grin. Is there something going on here that I don't know about? I doubt it, but… 'Scout directs that smile onto me and I realize what Ellis was talking about. They must've discussed me and John while they were out.

Wait. John discussed sex with somebody? He must've been embarrassed enough to start stuttering. That kid just doesn't do well in those kinds of situations. It was probably pretty cute to watch. Ellis better not have appreciated it too much.

Jeez, I'm jealous of Ellis and they weren't even doing anything… Doesn't really matter. John's mine and that fact isn't changing. Ever.

I like that.

John's mine forever.

Yeah, call it overly possessive or whatever, but I'm glad it's true.

We get changed once Ellis has followed the others out. Well, I get changed while 'Scout just gets dressed. Too bad. I kinda' liked knowing that he wasn't wearing jack-shit under my coat. It was a sexy concept.

We don't fit well on the tiny cot. Hell, I don't fit well on the tiny cot, so you can imagine what its like with two. 'Scout squirms a little, trying to back up from the edge, but he doesn't have anywhere to go; I'm taking up the rest.

"Roll over," John finally says.

"I'll take up more spa-"

"HB, just roll over."

I shift onto my back and take over the rest of the space, but 'Scout climbs on top of me and puts his head on my chest.

"I can't be comfortable."

"You're perfect," he murmurs back, just before going to sleep.

I brush my fingers through John's hair. I know he's tired, but why the hell did he have to go to sleep so fast? I was going to suggest another round before bed.

"It would be appreciated if you didn't commence in such activities with the rest of us present," Blue pleads from somewhere off to the right.

"Too late, he's asleep," I grumble. "And stay outta' my head!"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Agents roll in with their luggage at six in the fucking morning. I bitch about it until 'Scout brings me an energy drink and gives me a solid kiss in front of everyone, without so much as a hint of a blush.

A couple of the guys hoot and holler (mostly Ellis and one of my backup liaisons), making it okay for the rest of them to acknowledge it. John laughs when Liz yells for us to get a room. There are a handful of agents that still keep their eyes on the floor. They can have a problem with us, but they'd better keep it to themselves or I'll pummel them. John's just barely starting to get over this 'shy about anything to do with relationships' thing and I won't let some stupid ass comment drag him back down.

John kisses me again, pulling away to say (in a super sexy, groggy kind of voice), "Morning."

"Is it too early for sex?" I whisper.

'Scout grins. His sleepy smile is sexy too. I might have to be awake early more often, just so I can see him in this state. He's pushing his luck here. I could just jump on him if he keeps being so adorable.

"Probably," he whispers back.

"I hate to break this up, as cute as it is, but you have a flight to catch," Ellis says to 'Scout.

It does cross my mind that we're already on the plane. It must've entered 'Scout's too, because he gives Ellis a funny look.

"What?"

Ellis grins at me, "Mornin' HB."

"Hey, eyes over here," Myers directs, continuing when he's got Ellis's attention, "What flight?"

"Oh, the one Manning set up for your behavior evaluation. You were supposed to see Doc Andrews about it, but he went back to his home office, so you're meeting him there."

I don't like the sound of this.

"What else did he say?" I ask sharply.

"Who, Doc Andrews? I don't know, he left…" Ellis stammers.

"Not him. Manning, what else did Manning say?"

"Just that the Doc needed to see John. I was told to be here with the plane ticket and make sure John got on his flight okay, that's it."

'Scout puts his hand on my arm. "Don't shoot the messenger," he reminds me. I'm always tempted to. The poor bastards that bring the bad news are usually the ones to get the brunt of my anger.

"How long before my flight leaves?"

Ellis looks relieved when I stop glaring at him. "In about an hour and a half."

Myers' expression twists into a scowl. I know he doesn't want to go. I don't want him to either, but Manning didn't show up to be told off in person.

"Do you know when I'm supposed to be back?" Boyscout asks.

All he gets is a shrug.

'Scout sighs and blows a stray piece of hair out of his face. I reach around to knock it back down, hoping to lighten his mood a little. He gives me a smile for the effort.

Something changes and the smile goes from this cute little thing to a grin that looks like he's about to cause some serious trouble.

"How long did you say I had?" he asks Ellis and I realize exactly what that look is for. I am SO jumping on that train of thought.

Ellis repeats the 'hour and a half' bit and John grabs my hand to lead me to the front of the plane. He pauses at the crates, his brow titled like he's trying to decide on something. He's probably debating exactly how much cover the crates could give us.

I glance over at the open cockpit. Doesn't it latch from the inside? I give John's hand a tug and point at the cockpit. The pilots aren't here yet and they won't be for at least another thirty minutes.

I see the blush spreading across John's face at the idea, so I give him a bit of convincing, "Would you rather do it behind the crates?"

"No."

I drag him inside. The door does lock, so I slide the bolt home. By the time I turn around, 'Scout's already got his shirt off and is undoing the tie on my sleep pants. Hot damn, he moves fast!

"I thought you said it was too early for sex," I remind him, sliding my hand beneath the waistband of his shorts. I grab a handful of his ass and enjoy the needy moan I get from him.

"What if I'm gone more than a couple days? I have to get my fix while I have you."

I laugh. He makes me sound like a drug. I drop into the Captain's chair and pull 'Scout on top of me. This time, he's not shy or embarrassed. He gets positioned and pushes down, taking me into him in a single move. He's still slick from the night before, which helps, but he's damn tight. It's so fucking amazing I practically go off from just the heat of him.

"Ready?" he breathes.

"Hell yeah."

It's hot, and fast, and hard, him pounding down onto me and me pushing up to meet him. I shift my hips to make more room for his legs, then focus on hitting just the right spot, that spot that makes him howl and act more wolf than human. It takes a couple tries before I find it.

His eyes flare bright yellow and he rakes his nails down my shoulders. There it is. His pace stutters a second, so I pick up the slack, grabbing his hips for more leverage. 'Scout sorta' collapses on me, which scares me (thought he was having another seizure thing), but he sits up enough to play tonsil hockey, so he's got to be okay.

I can feel the end coming on strong and I know 'Scout's close by the noises he's making. It's kind of a mix between a whimper and a groan. I love that sound.

I move one hand up into his hair (I still don't know where my sudden fascination for it came from) letting the soft strands slide through my fingers. Boyscout tightens around me, nearly making me lose control. I barely manage to keep going.

"God HB… I'm… ungh… I'm gonna," that's about all the warning I get from John. I didn't even touch him, but he cums. I do have enough brainpower left to think to clamp my hand over his yell. He may be in the moment now, but he'd die of embarrassment if the entire airport heard him orgasm.

His muscles tighten around me and I can't help but follow him into it. It's like falling off the edge of something and never hitting the bottom. Heat rushes though every part of my body and I shoot my load deep into him. My orgasm feels like it goes on forever, but not long enough. When it's over, I don't move. 'Scout's panting on my chest and I don't really feel like letting him go. I wrap my arms a little tighter around him.

"I don't want you to go," I know I sound whiney, but fuck, we just jumped to the really good part in a relationship and he has to get dragged off. "Why the hell can't they just fly him to us again?"

"I don't know," he mumbles. "But it won't be too long… at least it shouldn't be." John shifts in my lap, making me acutely aware of the fact that I'm still buried hilt-deep in him. His squirming wakes up the hungry monster that we just sated.

John meets my eyes and kisses me, slow and sexy. He bites my lips, opening his mouth so I can taste him.

"You're getting hard again," he whispers, pushing up almost off me.

"You… you noticed that did ya'?"

He pushes back down, his body trembling beneath my hands, "Oh yeah."

Dear god… this kid's going to shove me off the edge before we even get started. He throws his head back and whines, and I can't help but take advantage of his exposed throat. I latch on to give him a hickey. His skin turns dark the way it should, but only stays that way for a few seconds. It fades back to pink while I watch.

John tenses up around my dick and gives me a look, "We going to do this?"

I don't answer; instead, I pull him off me and bend him over the control panel. I screw him hard. This time, I don't think either of us remembers to be quiet. It's only when we're done that I hear somebody knocking on the door.

When I open the door, the Captain gives me a solid glare. "Don't do that again," is all he says. John and I edge out around him. John barely gets over his embarrassment before he leaves with Ellis. He is a little better when he comes back from getting cleaned up and dressed.

John gives me a long look on his way out. It's like the puppy-dog look, but worse, since he's twenty times cuter as a human. It makes me want to run out after him, or pull him into a bear hug, or sneak into the cargo bay of his flight so I can come too, but all I can do is wave at him, "I'll see you later 'Scout."

Why do I have a knot in the pit of my stomach like something's not right?

He takes a few steps and looks back again. Maybe he's having the same thought. The BPRD never outsources, so it's just kind of… weird.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

TBC…

So, there's a good deal of sex in this one, but the plot moves on in the next chapter. Had to give everyone a solid fix before the trouble starts.


	9. The Society

- John

The entire plane ride, I feel sick. It started off as a headache about thirty minutes into the flight, but had become nausea and an overall achiness by the time we land. I really hope I haven't caught the flu. I try to push it into the back of my mind and just deal with it until I can get some medication.

I snag my luggage from the overhead bin when there's a break in the departing crowd and get out of the stuffy plane as quickly as possible. I'm beginning to figure out the problems I'm going to face being a wolf, and one of them is that a lot of humans in a confined space tend to smell. I mean, I assume they all bath every day, but I was grateful when it turned out to be a short flight.

Dr. Andrews is apparently based out of England. That kind of threw me for a loop considering he didn't have much of an accent. I thought he was an American, but it's possible he moved to England for work or family. Who knows?

Out in baggage claim, there's a gentleman holding a sign with my name on it. I guess they sent a car service to pick me up. When I get closer, I realize my name is just scribbled on the back of a receipt. That's a bit unprofessional, but I keep my thoughts to myself.

"I'm John Myers," I tell him.

He gives me a smile full of bad teeth and reaches out to shake my hand. "It's a pleasure, Mr. Myers. The team calls me Ralph," he says with a clipped, but warm accent.

"The team?" I echo.

He picks up my suitcase and heads for the nearest door, continuing to chat pleasantly, "You'll be meeting them soon enough. Would've brought them along, except it was lunchtime and Torque does get so grumpy when he hasn't eaten. We would've planned better for your arrival, but the news that you were coming was a bit abrupt."

I look away from the skyline and see that he's gotten ahead of me. I jog a couple steps to catch up. He may be a small man, but he's pretty quick on his feet.

The only car out in the stretch of parking lot we're headed towards is a worn-out bakery van. I'm about to ask if we're going the right way when he tosses my suitcase in the back and gets in.

I must've been staring for too long, because he pushes a window open, "I know she isn't much to look at, but she'll get us from A to B."

"Sorry," I sheepishly mutter and move to get in. I realize halfway around that I'm going to the wrong side and change directions. "We use a garbage truck," I add as I climb into the passenger seat.

Ralph nods at me, "You do what you can to blend in."

He sticks the keys in the ignition, but it takes three tries and a good deal of cursing before the engine turns over. "The old girl doesn't always have it in her," he mentions as he puts the van in gear. It hiccups before it complies.

"So, what made you decide to fly here on such short notice?" he asks conversationally.

"I'm supposed to see Dr. Andrews," I sigh. Do I owe them the whole truth? I'm sure Manning will give them the rest of the story either way. "I got in a fight with our director. I'm not surprised he wanted me shipped out so quickly."

Ralph swerves around someone making a slow turn and says a presumably foul word I don't quite catch before answering, "That's too bad. What'd you fight about?"

"The fact that I should be allowed to leave without supervision. He thinks I need to be babysat," I grump. I know he's just the driver and his opinion about my plight won't change anything, but it makes me feel a little better to complain.

"That's a load of bollocks."

I have to smile, "Agreed."

"The Doc's a good guy. We work with him all the time." Ralph leans towards me, dropping his voice like we were sharing something secret, "Have you ever met a Siberian werewolf?"

I shake my head, a bit dumbfounded by his change in attitude.

"You don't want to. The werewolves you get in America are nothing compared to Siberian wolves. All those horror films where the wolves stand on their hind legs and eat children; those are based on Siberian wolves. They're nasty bastards. Andrews is pretty invaluable against them."

I have no earthly idea what I'm supposed to say to that. The den we found in Jersey was bad enough; I don't really want to think about something worse. Those shining teeth still haunt my dreams.

Ralph doesn't ask me for a response because we pull up at a bakery. The BPRD doesn't blend very well. It's a big building, with a huge gate and doesn't look much like a waste management facility. If I had been looking for Dr. Andrews' base of operation, I never would have given this place a second thought. Not only does it look like a bakery, it also seems to be functioning as one. As we head inside, we pass people working with dough and tending ovens. It's not until we head through a door marked 'Management Only' (that takes a standard key to open) that I notice anything out of the ordinary.

The first thing that draws my eye is a portrait of Queen Elizabeth the first hung directly opposite from the door we came through.

"The Society was founded by Queen Elizabeth," Ralph explains, heading down a side hallway, "She was considered superstitious by her peers, but that fact never left her close circle of advisors. They feared that the people would lose faith in her if they knew, but she was very wise in handling the occult. She founded the Society to keep her people safe from the dark creatures of the world, but insisted it be kept a closely guarded secret. It was such a well kept secret that everyone's forgotten we exist, including the government that used to fund us."

A woman's voice with a thick Russian accent cuts through his introduction, "Get out!"

One of the doors farther down the hall flies open, and a guy tumbles through it, narrowly missing some kind of bizarre energy fluctuation in the air. I catch that he's also British when he makes a plea bargain with whoever's standing in the room, "Come on Yvette, it's nothing I haven't seen before."

A small woman comes out after him in a tee shirt and underwear. She's positively bristling. I can only assume that he walked in on her changing. She holds up one hand and ribbons of translucent… something (energy maybe?) flows out of the guy she'd been arguing with. He drops to the floor like dead weight and she disappears into her room.

What the hell did she do to him?

Ralph doesn't seem at all bothered by this display and simply steps over the still form on the floor, continuing his speech as he walks. I have to crouch to check the man's pulse. It may be a normal occurrence around here, but whatever she did to him didn't look pleasant. I can't find his heartbeat. I can't hear it either. He's dead.

Yvette comes back out, fully dressed now, and looks down at me. She's got a black cigarette hanging out of the corner of her mouth, but it's not lit yet. "You must be wolf-boy."

"You killed him," I say.

Her eyes flick to the man on the floor, then back to me. She pauses to light her cigarette before she gives his body a solid kick and steps over him, "I kill him plenty. I'll probably do it tomorrow too."

She heads down the hall in the direction Ralph vanished. I'm still trying to figure out what the hell she meant when the dead body at my feet sits up. I yelp and leap backwards. My heart is going like a rabbit's would right before the wolf catches up to him.

He was dead, I know he was! Thoughts of zombies and the undead flash through my head. They're not something I've ever had to deal with before, but I might have to learn pretty quickly. My hand goes for my gun before I remember that I had to leave it with Ellis so I could get on the plane. To quote Hellboy on this one: Crap…

I watch warily as he shakes his head and climbs to his feet. I get my needed shot of adrenaline as he turns towards me. Normally, I would run, but I'm not scared like I would have been in the past. The wolf side of me knows that I'm strong enough to fight him.

"Mr. Myers, right?" he asks cheerfully.

My anticipation melts into confusion. I can't stop the dumbfounded 'huh?' that falls out of my mouth. What a great first impression I must make…

"Sorry, I must've scared the hell out of you. I'm Lazarus," he says, offering his hand.

I take it numbly. I know the name Lazarus is from the bible, but I can't remember which… Wait, now it makes sense, "Lazarus is the man Jesus brought back from the dead, right?"

He grins, "Yeah. Most people don't get that."

"So, you have regenerative powers?"

"I can't die. I don't actually regenerate all that well, but it helps when something fatal doesn't do me in," he jokes, nudging me. Lazarus starts walking and I follow.

"So, what did she do to you? I mean, what's the power she used; I've never seen anything like it," I ask, peering into an open door as we go by. It looks like some kind of office. There's another portrait of the queen over the desk and shelves crammed to bursting along all four walls. Nobody's inside.

"Yvette's one of a kind. They found her wandering around the wreckage after Chernobyl," he glances over his shoulder at me. "You know anything about science, Mr. Myers?"

I have to correct him. Being called by my last name just makes me think of HB, even if he's forgone that for 'Boyscout', but I already miss him. "Call me John… I know enough. I did fairly well in the sciences during college, but are we talking chemistry, or physics, or what?"

"Bloody hell, I don't know, but you know how atoms are always moving, whether it's a liquid or solid, right?"

"Right."

He tries to diagram with his hands, but it's not entirely helpful, "Yvette pulls that energy from the moving particles, out and uses it how she wants. Or, in the case of something living, she can kill them. Got it?"

It makes a surprising amount of sense, considering how abstract the idea is. "Yeah, got it."

Ralph pokes his head out of the room on our right, "There you are. Thought I'd lost you there for a tick. You'll be staying with Lazarus in this room."

"But I don't sleep, so don't fret about needing to share a bed," Lazarus adds immediately.

I glance into the unfamiliar space, taking in my suitcase on the floor and the neatly made bed. HB never makes his bed, no matter how much I badger him.

Another swell of sickness passes over me: pounding head, nausea, the works. It's enough to make me want to curl up in the corner and whimper until I feel better. I try, unsuccessfully, to keep ignoring it. I'm really going to need medication. I probably caught something running around Venice in nothing but HB's coat. Not my brightest idea…

I vaguely realize that Lazarus is talking about the rest of the team, giving me heads up on who else I'll be meeting. Frankly, I'd rather just see Dr. Andrews now, get the evaluation over with and go home, but I want to be polite.

"Torque's a big bastard, so don't let him startle you, and Eon is our tactician. She's brilliant, to the point that she makes the rest of us look like idiots. Um… oh, and then there's Rex. He's not really part of the team, but you won't have to worry about him unless you upset Eon. He's kind of her pet."

I'm mildly grateful when Ralph interrupts the introduction, "Are you feeling a bit under the weather, John?"

It could be the migraine cropping up, but I'm not entirely sure what he just asked me. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Ill. You look like you're ill," Lazarus clarifies. "I didn't think werewolves could be ill."

How I'm wishing that was true. "I'm been feeling bad since I got on the plane. Actually, I think I'm going to step outside and get some air." Neither of them bring up that I'm not allowed or that it's against the rules.

Quite the contrary, Lazarus says, "That's a good idea. I'll ring the doctor and ask him what he recommends."

"Don't forget a coat. It's getting a bit chilly out there," Ralph adds.

I nod and duck into the room to get my suitcase. I wish I had my migraine medication, but I haven't gotten one since I was in high school so my prescription is definitely expired. My family doctor had said I'd probably grown out of them. I guess he was wrong.

I pull the zipper on my suitcase and immediately smell HB. It's a strong scent; the cigar smoke, his aftershave, and even the faintest smell of sweat and blood. It makes me miss him so much more, but it helps too. I must have picked up something of his by mistake for the smell to be that strong. As soon as I find the source, I know he must've snuck it in my bag while I was getting dressed, because I never would have mistaken it for something of mine. Tucked beneath my shirts and jeans is Hellboy's favorite jacket.

I usually complain that this jacket needs a wash, but, at this moment, I'm glad I've never managed to pry it away from him. I pull it to my nose and breath deep, nearly imagining that HB's in it.

Geez, you would think I hadn't seen him for months, let alone that we had sex this morning. Get a grip, John…

I throw his coat on. It swallows me whole, but I'm going to wear it. It'll help make my forced leave a little more bearable. It's funny… being able to smell him make me feel better. My headache's subsiding and my stomach is starting to settle. I head outside anyway. I could still use the fresh air.

No one glances twice at me as I leave through the bakery. They're probably used to seeing strange people, but you'd think somebody would have thought it was odd. Then again, I think my weird-o-meter's set a little higher than most. I tend to take notice of things that most people would just pass by; after all, I was trained to be that way.

The air outside is crisp and cold; it bites at my lungs and clears my head. The temperature has dropped a little since I landed. By the looks of the clouds, there might be a storm coming. It must be bringing a cold front with it.

A little girl with bright blue eyes peers up at me from her sidewalk chalk. I smile and give her a small wave. She smiles back. There's something strange about her, but I can't put my finger on it. I'm not sure whether it's just something in her eyes, or the way she holds herself… I look down at her drawings. Scribbled all over the sidewalk are complex math equations, things I can't even begin to discern and I'm good with math. I recognize a few of the signs and symbols.

"Did you do all this?" I ask her.

Her smile gets wider and she clicks the toes of her saddle shoes together, nodding happily.

I crouch down beside her. "What is it?"

She doesn't speak, instead, she writes her answer on the sidewalk with her oversized, blue chalk, 'I'm solving relativity.'

I raise an eyebrow, I can't help it. I do manage to keep the disbelief out of my voice, "Hasn't that already been done?"

Her smile twists up into a thoughtful expression, and then she shakes her head. 'Not correctly,' she writes.

Lazarus's words from earlier echo in my head, about how their tactician is positively brilliant. Even though she's so young, my bet is that this is her. "You must be Eon."

'And you must be John,' she scribbles and beams at me. Her expressions are so vibrant; it's almost like watching a cartoon character. I'm curious as to why she won't speak to me. Being mute often coexists with being deaf from birth because a child doesn't properly learn to form their vocalizations, but she doesn't seem to have any trouble hearing me. Unless she's exceptionally good at reading lips.

The first drop of rain falls and she looks up at the sky with a pout. I can see why she can't talk as the light hits her throat. There's a large scar up high on her neck, just where it would come across her voice box. It almost looks like a surgical scar though, like it was intentional. I push the thought away.

Her 'corrected' theory of relativity starts to melt away as the rain comes down harder. I hold the edge of the jacket over her head so she'll stay dry. It's too cold for her to get soaked.

"Let's go inside."

Eon hops to her feet and grabs my hand, leading the way. We pass by Queen Elizabeth, going left instead of right. She stops at a door with brightly colored flowers painted on it and makes several motions with her hands. I know she's using sign language, but it's not something I've ever learned.

"I'm sorry sweetie, I don't understand…"

It doesn't stop her. She opens the door and runs inside, leaping on her bed to bounce.

"This is your room?" I venture. I mean, the room is painted in vibrant kid colors, but I think that was what she was trying to say.

She nods happily and uses one final bounce to vault to the floor. I lean in the doorframe while Eon digs through a small toy box. She produces a dry erase board and a marker.

'I can teach you sign language,' she writes. After I've read it, she rubs it out and adds, 'I taught it to everybody else.'

I probably won't be here long enough to learn much, but her sentiment is adorable. "That would be great," I say, earning another ear-to-ear smile from Eon. I'm such a sucker for kids…

I catch the sound of someone coming down the hall, someone with a very heavy tread. As stupid as it is, my first thought is HB. It might not be that stupid; he is pretty determined. What if he snuck on my flight? He would've given the cargo crew the fright of their life.

I rush out, coming face to face with a massive creature. He's got to be at least a foot taller than Hellboy and almost twice as wide at the shoulder. He looks like a cross between a rhinoceros and a pro wrestler. Not just any pro wrestler, maybe Andre the Giant. His face is more animal, but his body seems mostly human.

His long ears flick forward as I stare at him and I finally think to say something, "I don't know why, but I thought you were someone else."

When I smell something sweet, I glance down to find a half-eaten watermelon in his hand. He seems to be munching on it like most people would an apple or peach. He takes another bite, ignoring my statement. Juice dribbles down his chin and onto the carpet.

There's a tug on my sleeve, and I look at the new message on Eon's dry erase board, 'He won't understand you. He's stupid.'

"I am not," the rhino-man says slowly. His words come out like syrup that's been in the fridge.

"Eon, that's not very nice," I scold.

She frowns and scribbles out, 'I don't have to be nice. Torque took my doll!'

"It's in your room," he defends.

Eon stops writing at me and directs her board at Torque, 'Yeah, up where I can't get it.' She gives up writing and starts signing at him with her hands, while he occasionally comes back with a molasses retort.

This has got to be the strangest sibling rivalry I have ever seen.

From what little I catch of their conversation (aka: his half), I know where to look for the doll. It's duct-taped to a blade of Eon's ceiling fan. I sigh and pull a chair over so I can reach it.

I'm getting the feeling that there's a direct connection between the size of the supernatural creature and their maturity level: the bigger, the more immature. I have two good examples thus far, maybe I should write a book about it.

As soon as I pull the doll free, Eon's at my side with hands outstretched. Torque may be a slow talker, but he's very quick when he moves. He snatches the doll in mid-handoff, holding it up high so neither of us can get to it. Eon stomps her feet in sheer frustration, signing frantically at him.

This has gone too far.

I hop off the chair, but he runs down the hall before I can say anything, Eon in hot pursuit. His thunderous footsteps make the whole bakery tremble. I dart after them, catching up to Torque as he enters what appears to be a kitchen. I plant myself in front of him with my hands on my hips and use the scowl that even Hellboy knows means business.

Torque barely manages to stop his massive momentum before he crashes into me. He regards me with wide eyes and droopy ears. Good, then he knows I'm serious. Eon comes around him and stands next to me, her arms crossed over her chest.

I stick out my hand, "Give it to me."

His eyes flick over his shoulder and I'm thinking he might take off, but he takes the way out that I was not expecting. Torque stuffs the doll into his mouth. I'm sure my expression matches Eon's slack-jawed, wide-eyed stare. I can't BELIEVE he just did that!

I can't stop the impulse; I smack his nose, "Spit that out now!"

He jerks back with surprise. I highly doubt anyone has really stood up to him before. He spits it out as slowly as his words. It clings to his jaws by a thick tendril of saliva. I can nearly hear Eon's squeak of disgust as she shrinks back.

I snag the doll, the thick, hot saliva oozing between my fingers. I suppress my cringe. As disgusting as it is, I've already experienced more revolting things in my short career at the BPRD. Spit can be washed off, but some things will make a stain so foul that you'd almost rather burn the garment than try and clean it.

I reach down to Eon, who looks positively crushed, and offer my hand, "Come on, we'll clean her up."

She sniffles and raises her big, glassy eyes. It looks like the tears might start flowing any moment. I take her tiny hand and shoot Torque a glare before marching to the sink.

"She'll be fine," I say, trying to sooth Eon.

It seems to help. Her sniffling slows as she stands on tiptoe to see over the counter. She watches while I carefully remove the doll's clothes and wash the saliva out of her hair and off her face. I'm glad the doll isn't porcelain or it never would have survived all that.

I'm rinsing out the tiny dress when I hear Lazarus and Dr. Andrews coming. They're talking about me. It's nothing bad, just that I felt sick when I arrived. Lazarus's next sentence stops about halfway through and there's a pause before he asks, "Torque, what's with that expression?"

"John hit me," come the molasses words. I try not to listen too intently. After all, I don't like to eavesdrop, but their conversation is clear as day. They must be standing right outside the door.

"What'd you do to piss him off?" Lazarus asks in an amused tone.

There's a lengthier pause before Torque answers, "I took Eon's toy."

Lazarus laughs. "He was Hellboy's liaison, Torque. I doubt he'll have any trouble standing up to you. He's used to dealing with big brutes."

Torque's retort comes about the same time as the one in my head, "Hey!"

"HB's not a brute all the time," I mutter to myself. I sort of forgot that Eon was standing there. She shoves her dry-erase board in front of me.

'Who's HB?' is what's written.

It would be best not to introduce the small child (no matter how intelligent she is) to the concept of a man having a relationship with another man, let alone a demon, so I settle on, "He's someone I work with in America."

Her brow furrows and she starts a new message. I drape her doll's clothes over the side of the sink while she writes.

'Work with?' The word 'work' is underlined three times. This is the moment where I desperately hope she doesn't have the same 'unique' frontal lobe as Abe. There are thoughts and memories in my head that no kid needs to see.

"Can you read minds?" I ask warily. I barely catch her headshake before Dr. Andrews comes in.

"John, I hear you're feeling sick." The idea seems to bother him.

I lay the doll to dry and wipe my hands off on my jeans when I can't find a towel. "Yeah, but I'm doing a lot better. Maybe I was just homesick already," I joke lightly. It sails right past him.

"Well, I want to keep an eye on you for the next couple of days, in case you do have something. The lycanthrope virus is normally far too aggressive for anything else to infect a wolf's system, so you understand my concern," he explains, checking my eyes and ears while he talks. I obediently open my mouth so he can take a look down my throat.

When he's done, I ask, "This isn't going to delay the evaluation, is it? Because, no offense to anyone here, but I'd like to go home sooner rather than later."

"Evaluation?" he repeats quietly, his expression deepening farther. "What exactly did they tell you, John?"

- HB

I'm so fucking bored. We've been back at the bureau for three days and this place has been like a tomb. We haven't had a single assignment, not even a little minor demon I could punt to relieve some frustration. It wouldn't be so bad if John was home. We could find plenty of ways to pass the time and that innuendo is definitely intended. When the hell is he supposed to be back?

I sigh and flick off my TVs. I'm sick of watching everything. The cartoons are all reruns and the news is all sports and weather. Time to go see what Abe's up to. He's probably just reading, but it's better than sitting around here. Maybe I can pester him into playing cards with me. Not that I ever win, 'cause the fish cheats, but at least I'll be doing something.

When I come in, Abe's floating in his tank, listening to music. I tap on the glass. He hates it when I do that, but how the hell else am I supposed to get his attention? Abe pulls off his waterproof headphones and blinks at me, waiting for me to say something.

"Come on. Get out of that thing and let's play cards," I tell him, jerking my thumb in the direction of the table.

"You'll only get angry with me when I win," he replies smugly.

I scowl. Smart ass is feeding off my thoughts. "If you wouldn't cheat, I wouldn't get mad. Now get your ass out here. And make sure you dry off so you don't get the deck soggy."

It takes him a few minutes to show up. While I wait, I dig out of deck of cards from the box we keep them in. I wonder if we have any beer in the kitchen… I could use one, or twelve.

"I was meaning to ask you, did you leave something with John with your smell on it, like I recommended?" Abe asks as he comes in the library. To this day, I still don't know where the door to his tank opens to.

"Yeah, I gave him my coat."

"That will have a plethora of smells, but I was thinking more of something that smelled like you," he says smoothly.

"Shut up, Blue." He's only teasing me to distract me from missing John. Sometimes, he just lets me brood on things, but I can always tell when he's trying (in his weird way) to cheer me up.

"Well, it is meant to comfort him, not drown him in the smells of all the monsters you've encountered. That jacket probably reeks heavily of death, especially to John's sensitive nose," he continues, completely ignoring my glare.

I deal out a game of poker because Blue prefers rummy. If he's going to taunt me, we're playing my game.

"Stay outta' my head," I warn as he sits down.

Abe sort of chuckles and picks up his hand, "I don't need to read your mind-"

"Yeah, I know I'm easy."

"Actually, I was going to say that you have a bad poker face, but that too."

I grumble under my breath. Maybe my head's somewhere else, or maybe Blue is cheating, but I lose six hands in a row. It should piss me off more than it does.

"You're bad normally, but today you're just not trying very hard," Blue states casually.

I groan and throw down my crap hand. Two threes and an Ace, not much to work with… "I miss him," I admit softly. I hate saying mushy shit like that, but better to Blue than someone else.

"I know," is all he says before he drops a perfect straight run from seven to Jack and adds, "We all do, but it's only been a few days."

He starts picking up the cards and arranging them meticulously. He doesn't look up when I stand.

"I'm going to get a beer, you want one?"

Abe dismisses me with a hand flick, "I think you know the answer to that."

Yeah, I know the answer. Abe doesn't drink much of anything besides water. "What if I can round up a rotten egg?"

"That would be delightful."

I head for the door, before I leave, he says something else, "We may have to recommend that John go out of town more often. You're extremely polite in his absence."

"Get your own damn eggs," I grump.

"That's more like it."

I take a small detour on the way to the kitchen so I can walk past 'Scout's room. When he gets back, I should talk to him about moving in to my room. Though, I might have to nix putting up the superhero posters. The only ripped muscles I want him staring at are mine.

Wait, 'Scout's door is open. What a little rat, he didn't tell me he was home. Would he rather put away his clothes than have a 'welcome home' romp in the hay? Doesn't matter, I'm just glad he's back. The whole 'sending John off for evaluation' thing just didn't sit right with me.

As I get within earshot of the room, I start railing him, "What, you were just going to do a load of laundry before you came to…" the words die in my mouth. There are three agents in Boyscout's room, packing his shit into boxes. For a minute, all I can do is stare at them, before my brain kick-starts, "What the FUCK is going on?"

They trade glances and Agent Polamero steps forward, "Why don't you head back to your room, Red?"

He must be fucking nuts if he thinks I'm going to walk away from this without asking questions. Actually, he's fucking insane if he thinks I'm going anywhere without knowing EXACTLY what they're doing.

The guy emptying out John's dresser (I think he's from PR, but I've only met him a few times) stops long enough to make the worst mistake of his life, he lets him mouth run where it should never have gone. Either this guy has the biggest fucking cohunes of any agent in the bureau, or he's just plain idiotic, because he says, "Your little fuck toy has been transferred to another bureau."

I should control myself, but it's not happening today. I punch him hard enough to send him flying over the bed, probably hard enough to kill him, but he's just lucky that I did it with my left hand. We'll see if he has the guts to run his mouth around me again.

The third agent takes off, but I grab Polamero before he can do the same. "Where's John?" I snarl in his face.

"We don't know, Red! Manning just told us to pack his stuff. He said he'd been transferred, but that's it!" he stammers.

John's words enter my head as I'm considering beating Polamero into a bloody pulp, 'Don't shoot the messenger.' I've got to take this to the real problem: Manning. He's been pushing me too far and this is way beyond the last straw. If I don't kill him, he'll wish I had.

I drop Polamero and storm out. What's the likelihood that Manning's even at the bureau? He's probably safe in his offices in Washington, feeling pretty fucking pleased with himself. I bet he thinks he's safe out there. After I tear him limb from limb, he'll know he's not safe anywhere.

I don't stop at the door to the garage. I shove the guard's head against the wall and tear the security door off its hinges, going straight for the garbage truck. It isn't until I'm behind the steering wheel that I consider one fatal flaw in my plan: I don't how to get to Washington. And I have no idea how to drive, so make that two fatal flaws, but it can't be that hard, can it?

It's not going to be long before half the bureau is out here, so that doesn't give me much time to figure it out. They've definitely already seen me leaving on their surveillance equipment. I pull down the visor and catch the keys. I've seen our driver put them up there a dozen times. It's just like on TV; stick the key in the ignition and turn. The truck roars to life. Now, how the fuck do I put it in drive? I fiddle with different knobs and levers. Something I pull makes the truck grind, but it doesn't move when I step on the gas.

Oh hell, I'm wasting time. I'll never get out of here if I keep screwing around. I leave the truck running when I jump out. Somebody will shut it down later. I shove my stone hand between the metal slats in the garage door and peel it open. It's my last obstacle.

Once I'm outside, my rage starts to pass a little. Don't get me wrong, I'm still pissed. It's not like I'm going to change my mind and go back inside, but I do start thinking about my plan. If I want to beat the hell out of Manning, I'd be better off waiting around the bureau until he shows up. He's there more frequently than he's in Washington. But if I go back now, they'll put me under strict surveillance and lock me in (not that I couldn't get out anyway.)

Since I'm out, maybe the better idea would be to look for John. I can beat up Manning later. I would really rather have John home than make Manning black and blue. There aren't many other bureaus he could be at, unless Manning removed him from the branch of the FBI that deals in the supernatural, but I doubt it. With 'Scout being a wolf, he can't really be sent anywhere else.

There's an agency out west. I'm not sure where it is, but I'll find out. They're a pretty small organization and they don't have any freaks to give them a hand, so maybe Manning decided to change that.

I pick a road and head west, not giving a shit who sees me. If I ruin Manning's reputation while I'm loose, then all the better. Only problem is that nobody wants to pick up a demon hitchhiker. I'm big enough to be intimidating to most people, but wandering around in the gear I normally wear at home does leave my demon features out where everyone can see them.

Most of the cars that go by me speed up once I'm within view of their headlights. After a while, I stop putting out my thumb. I would blame all those stupid horror movies for ruining the idea of hitchhiking, but I doubt I would've been picked up in the seventies either. Though, I wasn't as big then.

Rather than asking for a ride, I grab the back of a slow eighteen-wheeler and stowaway. The back's locked up tight, so the best I can do is just hang on, but it does get me out of town. I ride for an hour or so before he gets off the highway for gas. As nice as it would be to get some food, I don't think I'd be very welcome at the gas station. I jump off, rolling a little before I get to my feet.

My stomach growls.

"You would have to remind me," I mutter at it. I was doing okay ignoring it, but I'm going to need something to eat in the next couple of hours. It's not like a have a wallet though… Well, even with a wallet, who the fuck would serve me? It'll have to wait.

I look over my shoulder to see if there are any cars headed my direction. If I can grab another eighteen-wheeler, I could just leapfrog my way across the US. Eventually, I am going to have to figure out where I'm headed, but I'm happy to just be moving right now.

The next set of headlights I see are tall enough to be a truck, so I get ready to run. As long as it's not going too fast, I shouldn't have any trouble snagging it. It's taking a lot longer to get to me than I was anticipating. Actually, it kinda' seems to be slowing down.

Crap.

It's the BPRD truck. If they found me way the fuck out here, then Abe's helping them, because I left my tracker back at base. I keep walking. I'm not going back without a fight.

The truck slows down to pace me and Liz rolls down the passenger window. "HB, what are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

She sighs and disappears into the cab. The truck pulls ahead so they can park in front of me. While Liz and whoever else is with her are piling out, I move around the truck and keep going. Sparky runs after me. "HB, wait," she says pleadingly.

"I'm not going back, Liz."

She's almost jogging beside me, trying to keep my pace, "You don't even know where he is." They must have figured out what happened before they came after me. At least I don't have to fill her in.

"I know that he's not home!" I snap, turning to her. "And I'm not going back there until he is."

Liz moves around in front of me so I'll stop. I do, but I glare at her. It's not her fault, but why the hell is she here playing Nanny Squad when she knows damn well what's going on?

"You can't find him this way," Liz says calmly, rationally.

It's enough to make me want to scream at her. I may not be able to find him wandering around, but at least I'm not locked up, waiting for Manning to make the next decision for me. He runs our fucking lives! I decide not to say anything back. Instead, I move around her.

Liz talks at someone, probably Abe, in the direction of the truck, "He's not listening."

"We don't have long before the rest of them catch up," is the answer. It sounds like Ellis. He must be the one driving. "Oh shit, that might be them."

I look back and spot a line of cars moving towards us. As they get closer, I realize that two of them are Lincolns and the last one looks like a SWAT van. Manning probably thinks he brought more than enough crew to drag me back. He'll be in for a surprise.

Dad used to be the one to bring me back when I ran off, because I would listen to him. After that, it was Clay, and then John. Manning's never had to come get me himself. I hope he came in person instead of just sending his squad, because I'm really looking forward to beating him senseless.

Liz makes one last-ditch effort to get me in the truck, "HB, please! We can find out where Manning sent him and bring him back, but let's go now before this gets any worse."

"Come on Liz, you know I like trouble."

"Be reasonable!"

One of the Lincolns whips around to block my path, while the other parks in the middle of the road. The unmarked SWAT van takes up the rear to nearly block me in. Funny that they think this'll keep me put. A team of agents piles out of the van. They're armed to the teeth and are all aiming at me. So, I'm a threat now. Liz tries to put herself between me and them, but it wouldn't really stop them if they thought I needed to be taken care of.

"Get out of the way, Sparky," I tell her. I don't want her to get mowed down when I do something stupid.

"No way, Red."

I think her stubborn streak was part of why I loved her, but it was also part of why we never got along. I'm not going to argue with her. Liz screams her objections when I pick her up and toss her over the line of well-armed agents. There's been thick leaf-litter along the road for miles; it should break her fall just fine.

I turn my head as the door to the first Lincoln opens and Manning climbs out. Good, he did come in person. That'll save me the trouble of hunting him down later.

"The man of the hour," I crow mockingly. "Nice of you to join us."

"Time and again, you prove to be more trouble than you're worth," he states around a Cuban cigar.

"Except when I'm saving your sorry ass from undead Nazis."

He snorts at that. "You have your limited uses. Thing is, I'm in charge and you don't seem to understand that. Professor Bruttenholm isn't here to protect you anymore, so you're going to start playing by my rules."

I move towards him and hear all of the guns behind me rise. "You bring John back and I'll consider it."

Manning chuckles and I want to smash his face in.

"That's not the way it works. You start behaving and then I might arrange visits, as disgusting as it is to think that you two are sleeping together, but I'm not going to have two uncontrollable monsters in my bureau. You're enough to deal with," he says with a smirk, taking his cigar out of his mouth to tap some ash off the end.

I don't think so. I will not just have 'visits' from John, I will have him back for good or Manning's going to find out exactly what hell is like. "Wrong answer," I snap and pull back my fist.

I feel the sharp sting in my back about the same time my head starts spinning. My punch swings way wide. Liz screams something to the effect of, "You can't just treat him like an animal," before I hit the ground. Everything swims around me and their words stop making sense.

Son of a bitch tranquiliz..e…d…

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

TBC...

I know there are a lot of new characters in this chapter, but I hope ya'll like them. I didn't exactly want to send John into some kind of werewolf deathcamp and I figured Manning wouldn't be that cruel.

On a side note, all of the characters of the Society (those in England) are strictly copyrighted. They have their own story and it is mine, so don't steal them. I will come after you.


	10. Metal and Stone

- John

I blink several times before I realize I'm staring at the ceiling. I'm still wondering what happened when Eon's face appears above mine. Her brow is all scrunched up with concern, and she's poking my forehead. I can't be sure how long she's been doing that.

"I'm alright," comes out before I can really process what's going on. My voice croaks a little.

She doesn't look convinced, but at least she stops poking me.

"What happened? Weren't we working on sign language?"

Eon nods and makes some primitive signs that I get easily enough.

"I fainted?" I ask her.

It doesn't seem very likely. I've never fainted before in my life. She nods vigorously though. Maybe I'm sicker than I thought I was. I haven't been doing exceedingly well since I found out Manning stabbed me in back. There's probably no direct relation between the two events, but it sure felt like I took a dive after Dr. Andrews broke the news to me. That night, I couldn't sleep a wink and it felt like my stomach was revolting. It's made me pretty grumpy.

The Doc is still here at the bakery, to be available in case I got worse, so it would probably be best if I utilize that resource. "Maybe I should go see Dr. Andrews."

Eon nods again and wraps her little hand around my arm, trying to help me to my feet. I, on the other hand, try not to fall on her when I realize how shaky I am. After a second on my feet, the world starts to stabilize. I'm silently thankful. I don't think I could've gotten to Andrews's office with the floor pitching out of control.

Despite my attempt to reassure Eon, she follows me down the hall like she could do something if I passed out again. It's cute, it really is, but I'm kind of afraid of collapsing on her. I'm not that heavy, but I could still hurt her pretty badly.

Yvette is coming the other direction. Hopefully I can pass Eon off with her. I'm opening my mouth to ask if she'll take Eon to the kitchen to get a snack, when Yvette trips over absolutely nothing and falls flat on her face. Her cussing starts immediately.

"Son of a BITCH!"

I cover Eon's ears.

"Son of a fucking bitch! Rex, I've told you a hundred times not to sleep in the hall!" she screams at the floor.

I'm starting to seriously doubt her sanity until the air seems to shimmer where she tripped. There's a massive color fluctuation around an unfamiliar shape and nasty-looking creature appears, head hung low at Yvette's scolding. It clacks two mandibles together and shrinks away from her. When she's exhausted the sailor's alphabet, she lights a new cigarette and stomps off.

The creature slinks to Eon, giving me a look as it passes. As I watch it, its skin turns at least fifteen different colors. It finally settles on a deep amber hue as it rubs on Eon. It's like a chameleon or an octopus, except far more advanced… and alien looking. It's almost built like a dog, but it's so very different. Its wide head hangs low to the ground and is framed by two mandibles that seem to retract into its jaw (I don't think I want to know what those are used for). The last thing I notice is the bizarre texture of its skin. When it's visible, it almost looks like rock.

Eon pats the creature's head and it (he?) starts clicking contently. When I reach for it, the clicking immediately turns into a deep growl. I pull my hand back before I lose it.

"I take it he doesn't like most people?"

Eon shakes her head.

"Right," I sigh and continue down the hall.

I was so busy marveling at how many cuss words Yvette knew that I completely forgot to ask her to take Eon with her. Eon and her pet continue to trail after me. When I get to Dr. Andrews's office, I turn and crouch to her level.

"I think I'll be okay from here. Why don't you go play for a little while?"

She makes a face that immediately turns into worry.

I smile at her as reassuringly as I can, "Go on, I'll be fine." I ruffle her hair and she finally shuffles off, casting several looks over her shoulder as she goes. Once Eon and Rex disappear around the corner, I knock on the doctor's door.

A slightly muffled voice comes through, "You may enter."

Dr. Andrew's office is the one I saw when I first got here (the one lined with books). I found out later that the books he keeps at The Society's base are all reference material on werewolves. It's like our library at the bureau, except with a specialization. Apparently, he didn't want to keep them at the university he works at because people ask too many questions.

Dr. Andrews smiles at me as I flop in the chair opposite his desk, asking, "How are you feeling?"

He cuts straight to the chase, but that works for me. "I fainted," I tell him, leaning forward to judge his reaction. If he freaks out, then it's a good sign that I'll be allowed to freak out. I'm just hoping he'll start his next sentence with 'That's normal in (this) kind of situation' or something like it. When his brows knit together and he sits back in his chair, I start getting nervous.

"Is there something really wrong with me?" I ask quietly. I'm not sure that I want to know, but I don't really want to be surprised when a random organ stops working.

He muses a long time, his fingers steepled under his chin. After he's left me hanging long enough that I'm convinced I'm going to drop dead of some rare disease, he finally says something.

"I'm going to ask you a personal question, John, and I need you to be very honest when you answer me."

"Ok," I mumble, still trying to figure out what kind of exotic virus I could possibly have picked up.

"Have you slept with anyone since you became a wolf?"

Even if I did want to lie to him, he would know the truth from the blush that's spreading. Let's face it, I suck at lying no matter what the subject. My uncle always knew when I was trying to 'pull the wool over his eyes', as he put it.

"Um, yes," I admit, feeling my face get hotter.

"That explains a lot," he says, relaxing. A smile breaks onto his face and infectious, killer diseases fade from my head. "You're feeling ill because there's such a large distance between you and your mate." His smile fades, "I'm glad you don't have some kind of sickness, but this isn't exactly good news. A wolf can't survive without its mate."

I blink at him dumbly, "Am I going to get worse?"

With a grunt, Andrews pushes out of his chair and goes to the shelves. "Unfortunately, yes. Without any contact with your mate…" he pauses and glances over his shoulder at me, "If you don't mind me asking, who is your mate?"

My blush comes back full force. "Hellboy," I mutter quietly.

Andrews raises an eyebrow, "I don't have your ears John, especially at my age, you're going to have to speak up."

I hang my head and say it again, more loudly, "Hellboy."

His other eyebrow heads towards his hairline to meet with the first as he stares at me. I'm waiting to see which way his opinion will fall. He'll either be disgusted by the whole concept, or surprisingly okay with it, but it won't be anywhere in between.

Andrews turns back to the shelf and pulls down an old, leather-bound book. "Well, considering his behavior, and yours, around the time of your change, it's not that unexpected." He sets the book down on the desk, continuing, "Not to mention the fact that you haven't taken off his jacket since you got here."

I look down at the worn leather and realize that I'm petting it absently with my thumb. I stop. "Was it that obvious?" I ask.

Dr. Andrews flips the book open with a smile, "Oh, yes." He tabs through it until he finds whatever he's looking for. "He was extremely concerned for your well-being and he really didn't seem the type to act that way over his teammates. Not to mention that you allowed him to handle you so soon after your change. The first change is such a jarring, painful event that a new wolf if often stressed enough to attack anyone that comes near it, even familiar people," he explains as he finds a particular line with his finger. He puts on a pair of glasses to read it, "Here we are. It has been documented that a wolf can live no longer than six to eight months without the presence of their mate. A prolonged separation will cause fits of rage, depression, and a loss of appetite, among other symptoms."

"That doesn't really explain me passing out," I mention when the fact enters my mind.

He shuts the book, "The only answer I have for that is your connection to Hellboy. Something must have happened that rendered him unconscious and you passed out in response."

That idea completely dumbfounds me. What could possibly have knocked out HB? He's like a tank! In all the time I've worked with him and all the shit I've seen him endure, he's only ever been knocked unconscious once, and that was because he withstood the full brunt of Liz's attack in Russia. ONCE! He would've had to have been hit by a train… No, he's been hit by a train, it didn't do much…

My guts twist into a knot as my worrywart kicks in. I hope he's okay. "What could have knocked him out?" I mutter, more to myself than to Andrews.

Despite that, he's got an answer for me, "I have to tell you, I left some heavy-duty tranquilizers with the BPRD. They were meant for you, in case something happened and you lost control, but I suspect it would easily take down your mate."

"What? HB's three times my size, what kind of tranquilizer did you give them?"

"A werewolf doesn't stay down easily, John. That rapid metabolism that helps you heal also makes it nearly impossible to drop you for any length of time," he explains, putting his book away.

"Oh…" I slouch back into the chair, brooding. I'm torn between being angry with them thinking I needed to be dealt with like a dog and the fact that they DID treat HB that way.

Andrews's words break into my thoughts, "Knowing you the way I do now, I realize that you don't have the natural tendencies of most wolves, so it was an unnecessary precaution. It was fortunate that you took most of your human personality through the change. A good number of humans that make the change become more instinctual." He scratches the back of his head, "Anyway, we'll have to get you transferred back as quickly as possible."

I nod, getting up to go.

"One more thing, John."

I turn.

Andrews pulls off his glasses and asks, "Manning didn't inform you of your transfer so I'm sure I already know the answer to this, but, just for clarification, did you sign any forms agreeing to move to the Society?"

"No." I almost spit the word.

"Alright. I know it doesn't seem like it, but that will help us get you home. You just have to give us some time to go through the right channels. Have Lazarus take you to meet our director. He needs to be in the loop about all this."

- HB

What the fuck happened? I was about to turn Manning's face into jell-o and, next thing I know, I'm sprawled out on my bed. I'm still feeling a little woozy, but more pissed than anything. As soon as things stabilize, I'm on my feet.

I don't bother with the door 'cause I know it's locked. Instead, I start hammering on the nearest wall. There's no way I'm going to play 'nice demon' and stay happily locked in my room twiddling my thumbs until someone tells me my sentence is over. They should know by now that this place can't hold me.

I'm busy making the wall into pebbles when I hit something more solid. There's nothing solid in these walls… at least nothing more solid enough to stop me, it's just concrete and rebar. I chip the loose concrete away until I get a better view. There's a sheet of steel in the wall! I slam my stone hand into it, but I barely make a dent. That shit's got to be a foot thick if I can't do anything to it.

Crap.

It can't be in every wall, can it? I start ripping into them, looking for a weak point, a seam, anything! I hit steel a foot into every spot I try, getting more pissed every time I hear the metallic twang of my fist hitting metal.

I WON'T be kept prisoner here!

I scream and start throwing anything that isn't bolted down, venting on whatever's within reach. I'm making a goddamn mess, but I really don't give a shit. It takes me a long time to wear through my rage. When I finally do, I drop onto the edge of my bed. It's about the only inanimate object that survived my fit.

How the hell am I going to get outta' here now? I could just ambush Henderson when he brings me food, but, knowing Manning, they'll probably just install a slot on my door so they can push meals at me safely. That dirty son of a bitch… It's not even about pummeling him anymore; I've moved way beyond wanting to beat his face in. Now I'm just going to kill him. Slowly.

One of my Calicos slips out from beneath the bed and rubs on my leg. I can't tell which one until she turns her face to me. It's Jenny, I recognize her by the spot over her eye. She's a pretty bold little cat, so it doesn't surprise me that she's the first one to come out of hiding. I pick her up by the middle and rub my head against hers. She starts purring instantly.

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to scare everybody." I mutter to her. She gives me a small meow and works her way up onto my shoulder. I don't know why I'm apologizing, they always forgive me regardless. "Alright guys, it's safe… I'm done."

My ears perk at the sound of the lock on my door disengaging. The clock says that its two hours early for any kind of food, so there's got to be something else going on. I look up as Liz comes in. I'm glad it's her and not somebody else, but, if it had been anybody else, I wouldn't have thought twice about jumping them so I could get out. The door shuts immediately behind her.

Liz's eyes go wide as she examines my handiwork, "What happened to your room, Red?"

I can't stop my sarcasm, even knowing she'll get mad at me for it, "I redecorated. Like it?"

I guess I really did quite a number on it. Two of my TVs are broken, my favorite chair is upside down and it looks like one of the arms is busted, the door to by bathroom is hanging at a funny angle, and not to mention the concrete dust that's settled on everything. It only took me a few minutes to turn this place into a sty.

I know exactly what John's reaction would be if he saw this mess; he'd have his arms crossed over his chest with that disapproving frown he gets. He'd undoubtedly be tapping his foot while he looked everything over…

I push the thought out of my head before I get too worked up again. I'll have to clean before he comes back. Might as well be optimistic about it, even if I don't know where he is, or how he is, or if he needs me… Fuck and I can't even get out of my goddamn room!

I blink and look up when Liz puts her hand on my face. When did she lean in so close? She's got a sad expression. I don't think I've ever seen her look so sad. I mean, she got depressed a lot when she was still trying to figure out her power (knowing what she'd done to people when she lost control bothered her a lot), but this is a different kind of sad.

"What's up, Sparky?" is all I can think to say.

She drops her hand, "You really love him, don't you Red?"

Crap… what's with the touchy-feely stuff? Do we really need to go over this?

I open my mouth, intending to say something smart-ass or snarky, but nothing'll come to me. I finally settle on, "Yeah, why?" I sort of snap the answer, but she doesn't get mad at me for it. I wouldn't have gotten away with that on a normal day.

"I don't think I've ever seen you trash your room over anything," she says quietly. "Where are all the cats?"

"Hiding," I grumble.

Liz leans down to peer under the bed. I suspect about 3 dozen eyes are staring right back out at her. She sighs and straightens up, "That they are."

It's weird, but I almost feel like I need to explain myself to her, explain why I would throw a tantrum. I usually like to keep people guessing, but Liz is still looking around like she's expecting something. "There's metal in my walls," I say like it'll make my behavior make sense.

"I see that. Manning must have had it installed while we were in Venice." Liz sits down on the bed next to me and we don't say anything else about it. There's a pretty good pause before Liz tentatively brings something up, "Red, I don't want you overreacting, so just listen to me before you do anything, okay?"

My heart drops somewhere into my lower intestines. She wouldn't start a sentence like that unless she's got bad news. Hell, I don't know if I can handle any more bad news, I've got nothing left to break. I nod.

She takes a breath and I steel myself for the worst, "Abe figured out where John is."

I surge to my feet, "Let's go! Why are you still sitting there, let's go now!" That's not bad news, that's great! We can go bust 'Scout out of wherever Manning's got him stashed and be back home in no time. If Liz helps me get out the door then I'll do the rest.

I'm strapping on my gun when Liz grabs my arm, "I told you not to overreact."

"I'm not overreacting."

She grabs my chin and forces me to look at her, "John's in England, Red. How do you expect to get there? What are you going to do, swim? I hate to remind you, but you don't swim well."

I glare at her, "We'll catch a plane."

"I'm sure they won't glance twice at you riding coach," she says, tossing up her arms in exasperation. She's getting frustrated with me.

"Maybe not in coach, but I plan on riding first class." I check my ammo and slam the Samaritan closed.

Liz starts pacing. Her skin's glowing a little, like just before she busts into flame, but she's got it under control, "Damn it, Red, do you really think you're going to just walk out of here? Manning had you tranqued like a wild animal, what makes you think that he won't do it again the minute you get out?"

I hold up my gun, mustering an evil grin, "I could just shoot first."

She turns a skeptical look at me, "You've never killed a human in your life, and I doubt you're going to start now. You're the good guy, remember?" Liz sort of waves her hand through the air like she's dismissing the idea, but it brings my attention to the brace she's got on her arm.

I grab her so she'll stop pacing and I can see it properly. I'm about to ask her what happened when it comes to me, I did throw her kind of far… She glances down at her arm and shrugs lightly, "It's okay HB. It's just a hairline fracture. They said it would heal up in a month or so."

Hell, now I feel bad.

I flop back down on my bed and cats fly out from beneath it when it dips under my weight. I start fiddling with my gun so I don't have to meet her eyes. She might've gotten killed if I hadn't moved her out of the way, and I know she wouldn't have left on her own accord, so I did what I had to, but… I didn't want to hurt her.

Liz puts her hands on my shoulders and lightly kisses the top of my head, "I know you didn't mean to. Sometimes you just don't think about how strong you are." She kneels so she can see my face, "Just let Abe and me handle this, okay? I promise we won't leave you in the dark, but you getting in trouble all the time isn't going to make things any easier."

I may not want to sit around my room twiddling my thumbs, but it looks like that's going to be the only option.

This sucks.

I nod at Liz, since she seems to be waiting for an answer, and she gets up to go. "I know it's hard, but just be good for a little while, okay?" she says at the door. I grumble in response, getting an eye roll from her.

- John

I'm standing in front of a train station with no money, no ID, and no passport. Not to mention that it's a train station and they don't exactly have tracks to America. God, what am I doing?

Last night, I had a horrendous nightmare (when I actually got to sleep) and I changed. I guess it was like sleepwalking, but as a wolf. I didn't really realize what was going on until Rex attacked me; I must have been too close to Eon's room. We fought for what seemed like forever, him tearing the hell out of me and me taking out all of my frustration on his tuff hide. I'm glad I heal quickly, or I would've been in bad shape.

After all of it, we became pretty good friends. I think I'm the only one, besides Eon, that he doesn't growl at anymore. Nothing like a good fight to bring creatures together… But I have no idea where that came from! Was I on the hunt? If Rex hadn't of been there, would I have hurt someone?

I find myself getting pissed off at small things, things that shouldn't bother me, and I'm starting to feel like I'm going insane. It's almost like I'm losing myself in my wolf's rage.

Lazarus and I met with the Society's head of staff, but it was a lot of the same stuff I heard from Dr. Andrews: the transfer will take time. He was just as appalled as Andrews that Manning would trade me out without my consent, but it doesn't seem to be getting me out the door any faster. I think that's why I'm standing here, trying to figure out how to get out of England like a fugitive.

I'll be honest, I found the train station after I got lost looking for the airport. I was kind of hoping that there might be a train that could take me there. But then I'm back to the issue that I have no wallet and my passport is in America with the rest of my stuff. I should have brought it with me. Hindsight is 20/20.

I wander over to a bench by the vending machines and fall onto it. My stomach growls. Even the thought of hermetically sealed, preservative-ridden snack food sounds good, but I'm going to blame that on the vending machine. I usually prefer something corn syrup free.

I guess I did miss lunch while I was wandering England aimlessly. My stomach complains again, twisting up on itself like I hadn't eaten in days. This must be what HB feels like all the time. It seems like I can never get him enough food… Damn it, why did I have to start thinking about him again? I'm so homesick that I think a real illness would be less painful.

I drop my head back against the wall with a groan, shutting my eyes against the unfamiliar landscape. I hear someone approaching, but I completely ignore his presence until I catch a whiff of him. It's Lazarus. I barely open one eye as he leans on the wall next to me.

"You know, Eon's really upset that you were going to leave without saying goodbye."

His words stir up my guilt easily. It wouldn't take much for me to make this place my home, and these people my family, but the BPRD already has my heart. Even with as many problems as we have at the bureau, I really can't see myself anywhere else.

"It's not like I'm actually going anywhere," I sigh.

Lazarus sits on the bench beside me, resting his elbows on his knees. He's quiet for awhile as he stares out at the busy street the station faces. "Is there a phone number you can use to get in contact with your bureau?" he finally asks, turning to look at me. "Maybe if you talk to your mate, you'll feel better."

It's a good idea, in theory, but the phone system in the bureau is almost entirely closed circuit. The phones can only receive calls from the phone in Manning's office in Washington, and other phones within the bureau itself. Most of the agents don't carry cell phones around with them; they either leave them in their lockers or at home.

It comes to me in a flash, "Ellis!"

"Huh?"

"Ellis, he gave me his number when we were in Venice so I could get a hold of him if I needed something. He carries that PDA everywhere!" I exclaim, searching my pockets for the card he gave me. I find it in the inside pocket of HB's jacket.

Lazarus holds out his cell phone before I can even ask if he has one. I give him a grateful smile and punch in Ellis's number.

About the third ring, I realize that I'm pacing anxiously. I stop when he finally answers.

"This is Ellis," his voice is thin and slightly distorted, probably due to the distance between the phones. I may not have known him too long, but it's damn good to hear him.

"Ellis, its John."

There's a little crow of happy laughter and he hollers, "It's SO good to talk to you! The bureau's been going nuts without you. Everybody's grumpy, mostly Hellboy, but nothing's been going well. As soon as Red found out you'd been transferred, he was out of here. We caught up to him almost twenty miles outside of Jersey! What made you leave?"

I'm surprised at his boisterousness. Ellis always seems like a pretty laid-back guy. "It wasn't exactly my choice. You were the one who took me to the airport. I wasn't faking when I said I didn't know what was going on."

There's a pause on his end. "John, that kind of transfer breaks policy. Whether you're a human or something else, you're still a member of the bureau. He can't do that without your consent."

"Yeah, well. Manning's got a pretty strong view about freaks and their rights: he thinks we don't have any." I can tell Lazarus is paying attention when he makes a face at my statement.

"Hey, you want to talk to HB? He's been a wreck since he found out you won't be coming back; he's pissed off at everybody. Henderson won't even deal with him anymore, he's my job now."

"I definitely want to talk to him." I don't mention that it was the reason I was calling him. I'm sure Ellis figures, but I don't want to tread on his feelings.

"Okay. Hang on; I'm going to sneak you in on his meal tray."

I briefly wonder when things got so bad that we need to hide the fact that we're having a phone conversation. There's a ridiculous amount of rustling and then it's quiet. I can hear the soft squeak of the food cart's wheels. I've been meaning to give those a shot of WD-40, but I still haven't gotten around to it. It's somebody else's job now.

There's no mistaking the loud metallic clang of HB's door opening, then I hear Ellis's faint voice, "Brought your snack Red."

"I'm not hungry." Just hearing HB sends soothing waves over my body. I feel less tense, less stressed and sick. Then the nostalgia hits me. Just hearing him isn't enough. I want to see him and touch him and be held by him. It almost hurts more than it helps.

Ellis comes back with, "I really think you should try the nachos."

"Those aren't nachos, they're just chips. Where the hell is the cheese?"

I snicker. Red's more finicky than any child. His food has to be just perfect or he won't eat it. Nachos have to be slathered in cheese, then with refried beans, and then have a thick layer of jalapeños; otherwise they don't meet his standards. But, he's also not following Ellis's clue.

"Maybe you should try talking to the nachos." I know HB won't buy that. He'll think Ellis is nuts.

There's an expanded silence and Red finally says, "What are you on?"

I can't stop my laugh, "HB, pick up the phone!"

There's a lot of static, probably from one of them moving the chips around to find the PDA and then Ellis repeats, "Maybe you should TALK to the nachos!"

"Oh!" HB's voice gets louder, "Boyscout?"

"Yeah Red, it's me." I take it back, hearing his voice is so worth the homesickness it brings with it. "God I miss you," I whimper.

"Me too, kid."

Ellis's thin voice comes out of the background, "I don't want to put a damper on this, but please, PLEASE don't stay on too long. That's super long distance and I don't want my phone bill to be higher than my salary for the month."

HB pauses (he's got to be glaring at him) then suggests, "Tell the bureau to pay for it."

"Um, a good plan, but I don't think they'll consider random calls to Europe work related."

Red snorts, "Send the bill to Manning. It's his fault anyway."

Ellis makes a few more weak complaints before I hear the door to HB's room close. "We're alone now," I can almost see his suggestive brow wiggle and I know exactly what he's thinking. His tail's probably twisting mischievously at the thought.

"As tempting as it is, I will not have phone sex with you."

"Aw, why not?"

I glance over at Lazarus, who's trying so hard not to look like he's listening, and lower my voice. "Because I am in a public place and that is entirely lewd behavior anyway!"

"What's lewd mean?"

I sigh, rolling my eyes skyward, "Vulgar, bawdy, rude, coarse. Take your pick."

"So what's lewd mean?"

"HB!"

He laughs heartily and I can't help but smile. As crude as he is, he's still mine.

We talk for almost an hour, catching each other up on everything. After finding out what Manning did (instead of just theorizing about it) I'm tempted to rip his throat out myself. I fill Hellboy in on the Society and their team members, but, mostly, we just talk.

Lazarus gets bored after a long while and leads me back to the van. He lets me chatter until we get back to the bakery. Finally, when the van is parked and the engine is dead, Lazarus looks over at me with raised eyebrows. I take it as I sign that I need to be done. Ellis was right; this call must be costing both ends a fortune. Unfortunately, I know it's not something the Society can afford.

I hang up regretfully, only after plenty of 'goodbye's and 'I'll talk to you soon's, missing Red as soon as the connection is terminated. I turn the phone over in my hands for a minute, before handing it back.

Lazarus pockets the phone and clears his throat, "I got an idea while you were talking. I don't know whether or not your bureau will play along, but it's worth a try. Maybe we can get you home a little sooner than a legitimate transfer."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

TBC…

So, this jumps back and forth between the two of them a little more than it usually does, but it seemed necessary. I'm thinking most everything will get wrapped up in the next chapter, assuming it doesn't turn out too long and needs to be cut.


	11. Wyrm's Fire

- John

The Society's administrator (Buford Westfield, as it says on the plaque perched at the edge of his desk) is looking over the file Lazarus dragged up with an intense frown on his face. I think he's trying to sort things out, trying to find a loophole or hitch we haven't seen yet. After what seems like forever, he drops the file onto the order forms for the bakery that litters his desk. Apparently, he actually runs the bakery as well as the Society. It's not only a cover-up, but also the Society's only source of income.

Eon scoops up the file (she joined us immediately upon our arrival, scowling at me thoroughly for taking off without a word) and pours over it. Her input in this will be helpful, since she's far more likely to spot a problem.

"So, this worm hasn't been a particular threat, but you want to make the BPRD think that it is," Mr. Westfield sums up easily.

Lazarus nods, "Right. We can only credit a handful of human deaths to it, but our sources say it's incredibly large. If we play it up, we can request assistance from the American bureau."

"And get John home in the process," the administrator concludes.

"Exactly, and I bet we can have it handled by the time they even get here."

It seems relatively foolproof, but I'm not so sure Manning will buy into it. We don't work with other bureaus, mostly because Manning has an incredible fear of PR leakage. While the BPRD has strict gag orders on anyone we bring into the bureau or come into contact with on missions, that doesn't mean other agencies have the same policy.

There's a soft tug on my jacket sleeve as Eon tries to get my attention. Her brow's all scrunched up, like something's bothering her. I crouch to her level, "What's wrong sweetie?"

She signs slowly to me. I've learned a lot since she started teaching me, but she still can't go at the same speed as she does with everyone else. I still only catch three-quarters of what she's trying to say.

"What do you mean 'its spelled wrong'? What's spelled wrong?" I ask.

Eon turns the file around and taps the word 'wyrm'. It is weird. I take the file and look over it. There's no description of the creature, other than the fact that it's large, so there's no particular reasoning for the misspelling.

I meet her bright green eyes, "Does this mean anything to you?"

She nods vigorously, scampering off. Lazarus and Mr. Westfield are still discussing the 'how' of our plan, so I follow Eon. She leads me back to her room and starts pulling books off her shelves. It's extremely frantic behavior. It worries me.

"Eon," I start, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

She yanks out a book and opens it up to the image of a dragon-like creature, shoving it towards my nose. 'This is a wyrm', she spells out 'wyrm', emphasizing the 'y'.

I look down at the image. The beast is serpentine, curled up around what appears to be the destroyed remains of a tower. Even for an artist's rendition, it's kind of terrifying. Dozens of curved teeth gleam from its gaping mouth and my mind immediately tells me what those could do to me. I shut the book.

"We need to show the others."

Eon snatches it from me and runs back to Mr. Westfield's office. All I can do is charge down the hall after her. When I get through the doorway, the book is in Lazarus's hands and Eon is explaining. Both men are watching her intently, occasionally glancing down at the picture during her non-verbal dialog.

The administrator takes the book from Lazarus with a smile, "Eon, this is a fairytale. I appreciate your concern, but I doubt this story has accurate information about it."

I frown without realizing. Considering how brilliant Eon is, they don't think twice about dismissing her concerns as the boogieman. I realize that she's a child and kids tend to have more irrelevant fears than adults, but I think they need to give her a little more credit. Lazarus looks like he's deep in thought. Hopefully he's considering the possibility of Eon's idea. Mr. Westfield seems like a nice man, but I get the feeling that he just views Eon as a child, while the others better understand what she's capable of.

He ruffles her beautiful, curly hair and goes around his desk to sit down, "I believe I can get this arranged by the end of the week." He directs his next sentence at me, "You should be home very soon."

Why do I get the feeling that this just isn't going to end well? I glance down at Eon's fretting pout and slip my hand into hers. Her little fist closes around my index and middle fingers. I hope Mr. Westfield is right and this wyrm has only been blown out of proportion by Eon's imagination, but part of me doubts it.

- HB

I haven't seen Ellis all damn day. I was thinking I could pester, or maybe threaten him into lending me his phone again. Donegal was the one to bring me breakfast. When I asked him what was going on, he got this nervous expression and said that Ellis requested the day off.

I swear, no matter how long this guy works with me, he still acts like I'm going to rip his arms off. He probably looks at my liaison's vacation days as a death sentence. You never know when I'll lose my temper and randomly disembowel someone, like all the other agents I've killed for no apparent reason, note sarcasm…

It was a long, boring day. I'm still locked in my fucking room (but I have had time to pick up some) and neither Abe nor Liz have come by to give me an update. When I'm not watching TV, I'm pumping iron, until my door opens about an hour after dinner. Ellis slips in like he's trying to hide, looking around thoroughly before he pulls the door almost shut. It's really weird seeing him so shifty.

"Get your shirt on, we don't have a lot of time to get out of here."

I don't ask why, or what for, or anything, because I'm hanging on the fact that he said we're leaving. I drop the barbell and grab my shirt off the chair. I'm more than willing to jump at the chance to get out of this place. I'll figure out where we're going later. Maybe I can ditch Ellis and get over to the airport. I need to catch a cargo bay headed to England.

We move through the bureau cautiously. I wonder if Ellis realizes that this place is rigged with cameras. I don't tell him, because it's damn funny to watch him peer around corners like he's being sneaky. It makes me think of an old cartoon. After awhile though, I know we're wasting time.

"Ellis, are we playing hide-and-go-seek with the other agents, or are we trying to get out of here?"

"Would you rather just plow through anybody…" he tapers off, looking at me. After a second, he straightens up, "Yeah, okay."

We continue like we were just taking a stroll through the bureau. A couple of agents pass us in the hall, most of them not giving us any more attention than a nod 'hello', but I have to knock one guy out. He gives us a glance at first, and then turns back to me with his mouth open. He barely get's past, "Aren't you supposed-" before I punch his lights out.

Ellis raises his eyebrow.

"What?" I snap.

He shakes his head, not saying anything.

There are two guys standing at the door to the garage (the door's been replaced since I broke out) and they start getting real nervous as I get close.

"Evening gentlemen," Ellis starts, a big, fake grin on his face. "I've been authorized to take agent Hellboy to get his teeth cleaned."

Huh? I'm going to assume that he's lying, because I've never had my teeth cleaned in my life, and I haven't had a single problem. Demon enamel, what can I say?

The guard's don't look anymore convinced than I am. "We're going to need to see signed papers stating that."

Ellis's smile get's kind of strained. Man, Abe thinks my poker face is bad, but Ellis really sucks at bluffing. I was going to just start busting heads, but I get this idea.

"You forgot the damn papers?" I yell at Ellis. It takes him a split second to start playing along.

"I'm sorry, I must have left them in my office," he mutters, searching through his pockets.

I kick it up. My status with the security is legendary. Nine out of ten of them are scared shitless of me, so if I start getting really pissed, maybe we'll get some results out of this farce.

"I've got the fucking cavity from hell and you forgot the god DAMN PAPERS?"

Both of them flinch back when I start screaming. The guy on the right opens his mouth like he's going to let us through, but the other one jabs him in the ribs, "I'm sorry, but we need written clearance."

I walk a little ways away, ranting, and let Ellis play the distressed liaison. "Please, his appointment is in twenty minutes, can't I get you the paperwork when we get back? You gave no idea how hard it is to arrange for someone to see him."

They exchange looks and I make sure to toss in a few more curse words for good measure. The guy on the left is halfway though his 'alright' when his radio crackles and the chief of security comes on, "Don't let them out. None of this has been authorized."

Well, it was worth a go. I really thought we could save these two from concussions. Their guns come up to hold Ellis and me (mostly me) at bay.

"Okay," Ellis sighs, holding his hands up. Out of the fucking blue, he pulls the oldest trick in the book. And what's really sad is that the goons at the door actually fall for it. "How did that slime demon get in here?" he exclaims, pointed dramatically down the hall.

Their heads and guns turn and Ellis takes them both down with what I think might have been tae kwon do. He's probably going to get fired when this is all said and done. Ellis swipes his card through the security lock and leads me to one of the Lincolns with tinted windows.

"You know, eventually I'm going to need to know what the hell we're doing," I say as I jump into the back.

Ellis doesn't answer me until we've made it through the bureau's gates and we're on open highway. "There's someone who needs to meet with you and we didn't want to bring him to the BPRD"

"'Scout?" I ask immediately. I don't know why it would be him. When I talked to him yesterday, he was still in England and didn't give off any hints that he was coming back soon.

"Regretfully, no," Ellis says. "But it's really important."

We don't go far, about five or six miles, before we park in a back alley. It almost feels like we should be making some kind of drug deal, considering the setting.

"Who the hell are we waiting for?" I grumble when I start getting bored.

Ellis sits back and kills the engine, "He should be here any minute. Chill out."

I want a cigar, but I didn't bring one with me. "Hey, we passed a cigar shop two or three blocks from here, could we just-"

He cuts me off, "No. We have to be here when he arrives."

My tail twists angrily at being interrupted. I'm thinking about reaming him for it, but a limo pulls up behind us. The guy that gets out of the back is high military. His uniform has more of those little colored badges than I've ever seen before. I think I recognize him, maybe from TV… "Is that?" I can't think of his name.

Ellis fills in the blank for me. "The Secretary of Defense, so be on your best behavior," he says as he hops out of the car to salute.

The Secretary of Defense as in THE Secretary of Defense? As in the President's right hand man in the military? Either something really nasty is going down and they need some help or… Actually, I have no idea what the alternative would be.

Ellis opens the door for the Secretary and stands aside. No surprises here, but he jumps when he first sees me.

"Sorry, I should have been more prepared for your appearance," he apologizes as he slides in the car.

"I know I'm ugly."

He doesn't respond to that. Instead, he reaches into the briefcase he has with him and pulls out a box that I immediately recognize as cigars. He's probably just trying to butter me up for something, but he's already shot up about two places in my book.

"I heard you like cigars," he says, holding out the box. "I don't smoke myself, but I thought I'd bring you some."

I take the box, pulling one out to smell. It's a good Cuban, good brand too. He probably dropped a pretty penny for a box of them. I stick it in the corner of my mouth and dig out my matches, "So, what's the occasion, Mr. Secretary?"

"Please, call me Allen. That whole 'Mr. Secretary' thing get's old real fast."

"Alright, Allen," I say around my first drag of smoke. It's a damn good cigar, better than I usually have. "What threat to national security did you come to me about? You people don't normally come see us in person, so it's got to be pretty big, right?"

"Actually, I'm here to ask you a few questions. I'd really rather hear your answers in person than through second-hand reporting." He gets a pad of paper out of his briefcase and looks up at me, "It's been brought to my attention that Director Manning has broken a number of different policies over the last few weeks. What do you know about that?"

I arch my brow. This is about getting Manning in deep shit with a higher authority? Hell yes, I'm so on top of that idea. Somebody must have told him about this or he wouldn't be here. "Who told you?" I ask.

"I'm sorry?"

"Who told you how fucked up the bureau's gotten?"

Allen pulls the cap off a very expensive lookin' pen and jots down a few notes. "He's asked to remain anonymous for the time being."

"Oh." I lean back in the seat, glancing out at Ellis. He's standing next to the car with his hands folded behind his back. I don't need to guess twice about where he's been all day. "Manning is an asshole," is how I start.

"Do you care to elaborate on that?"

I tell him everything, from the tranquilizers, to John (leaving out the little bits as to why he got transferred), to the way we freaks are treated. He writes everything down, occasionally cutting in to ask for more info. When I'm finally out of complaints, he puts his pen away and glances over his notes.

"So, most of your anger with him centers around him removing John. I do have to ask, who is John? Is he another agent, or like yourself?"

"John was brought into our bureau from the FBI and then got bit by a werewolf, so he's both. What you need to know about him is that he's a nice guy, my favorite agent, and Manning had no fucking right to send him off."

Allen stares at me for a minute, then finally nods, "Fair enough. I've gotten similar answers from the others."

That sparks my interest. "What others?"

"Elizabeth and Abraham. And Ellis, of course. Abe is quite a charming fellow, isn't he?" he asks as he closes up his briefcase.

"Charming is not what we normally call him."

The Secretary laughs, "Well, I've only met him once so I guess my judgment could be wrong. It was a pleasure meeting you, Hellboy. You'll be hearing from me about this matter very soon." With that, he gets out of the car.

I tap the ash off the end of my cigar while Ellis and the Secretary of Defense talk. Ellis salutes and Allen walks back to his limo. Things are actually in motion. Ellis must have been the one to go to the Secretary, there's no other way this could have happened.

Quite frankly, I didn't realize that the Secretary knew about the BPRD and I don't think anybody else did either. To us, Manning was the top of the food chain and there wasn't a damn thing we could do about it. I guess we just needed somebody from outside the bureau to see otherwise. For the first time in a while, I feel I smile spreading on my face.

Ellis gets in the front and cranks the engine to life, "That seems to have gone well."

"Ellis."

"Yeah?"

"You can stay."

He twists around in the seat so he can look back at me, "What's that mean?"

I finish off the last of my cigar, putting out the stub on my stone arm. "Exactly what it sounds like. You can stay."

- John

I'm not entirely sure what inspired me to cook dinner for the Society, but I told Ralph to take the evening off and I'm taking a stab at it. I used to watch the bureau's chef mix up an incredible amount of food for HB every few hours with relative ease, but it's definitely not as easy as it looks. I like cooking, but I usually don't prepare a meal for so many mouths, or for an endless stomach like Torque's.

Then again, the bureau's chef used to be a short order cook in a ridiculously successful restaurant, so he can handle quite a crowd. I have no such experience. All I can do is make stuff in bigger pots and hope for the best. Fortunately, for the sake of my sanity, I did think to make spaghetti, one of the easiest things I could come up with. Premade pasta, sauce out of jars, what could go wrong?

I found the answer to that: everything. The sauce is burning to the bottom of the pot and the pasta is boiling over, and I have no idea where anything is in this kitchen and I burned the shit out of my hand… I could go on, but it seems pointless. Clearly, I can't cook for a crowd of more than one.

Eon wanders in about the time that I'm trying to the garlic toast ready. She stands at the entrance to the kitchen, taking in the mess I've made with some amusement. I give her a sheepish grin. Eon shakes her head at me as if I was a little kid trying to make dinner for my parents and making more of a disaster than it was worth. Armed with a stepstool, she turns down the pasta, transfers the sauce to another pan, and whips up a ridiculous amount of garlic toast to put in the oven. All I can do is stare at her in awe.

"You usually help Ralph make meals, don't you?" I ask as she stirs the sauce.

She nods, a big, proud grin on her face. 'This doesn't have meat in it, right?' Eon motions at the sauce with her question.

"No, I know Torque's a vegetarian," I answer, checking on the toast. It doesn't have to boil long. While I'm not that savvy in the kitchen, I know that it'll burn if I don't watch it.

Eon works a single noodle out of the boiling water and, instead of tasting it like I thought she would, she flings it against the wall. The noodle sticks, staying in place.

"Eon!" I scold. She was a perfect little lady a minute ago, why is she throwing stuff?

She grins at me, completely unabashed by my reprimand. 'When it sticks, it's done,' she tells me with her hands. While she explains, Rex materializes and gets on his hind legs to slurp the noodle off the wall. He falls back onto all fours and disappears immediately.

Alright, it's probably the most unorthodox way to test spaghetti, but it is kind of funny. I laugh, despite the fact that she really shouldn't be throwing food. "Go tell the others that dinner's ready," I say, still chuckling.

I catch the faintest whiff of burning. Shit, the toast! It's just barely getting too brown along the edges, so I'm able to save it. I highly doubt anyone will turn their nose up to it.

It takes quite a balancing act to get all of the food to the table before the team comes barreling down the hall. Well, Torque and Lazarus come barreling, Yvette just strolls in while finishing up her cigarette and Eon skips in after her. I'm sure Rex is around here somewhere. I've almost mastered being able to spot him while he's camouflaged. There's always this tiny variation between the spot he's in and the surrounding area, but it's so miniscule that it's easy to miss.

What does he eat? For the days I've been here, I haven't seen the creature have a single meal.

"Should I make something for Rex?" I ask as I sit down.

Lazarus looks up from spooning out a massive helping of spaghetti, "Rex doesn't need to eat, but I'm sure he'd be content to gobble up whatever you made for him."

"He doesn't eat?" That's a little hard for me to grasp. If he doesn't eat, then where does he get his energy from? He has to get it from somewhere or he'd die.

"Nope. We don't know why. I mean, he can eat anything, from metal to rock to organics, but he never leaves any," he pauses, like he's trying to pick the appropriate word, "droppings."

"Is this really suitable dinner conversation?" Yvette grumps, a piece of bread halfway to her mouth.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Torque's massive hand sneaking towards Eon's plate. I swat it with the back of my fork and point the utensil at him, warning him without words. Torque really is just a big kid and he can't help but pick on his little sister. Somehow, I ended up becoming the peacekeeper between the two of them. Torque rubs his hand with a prolonged 'ow'. Eon sticks her tongue out at him and I give her a warning look too.

"Anyway," Lazarus continues. "Eon found him as an egg, so we don't really know what he is. For a long time we thought she had an imaginary friend, since nobody could see him, but he eventually felt the need to protect her, and there wasn't any doubting it after that."

A pointed tongue flops onto the table next to Eon and she drops a noodle onto it. Rex inhales it. For not needing to eat, he sure does it a lot.

"Rex, get away from the table," Yvette snaps.

He slinks over to the far wall and disappears against it. I highly doubt he'll stay over there. Eon gives Yvette a droopy-eyed look for banishing Rex. The Russian seems to be completely unaffected by the puppy expression, but she finally breaks.

"Alright, he can sit near the table, but stop feeding him!" As tough as Yvette would like to be, she's got a really soft heart.

Eon grins and makes a motion at the wall. The only sign of Rex coming back is the sound of his claws clacking across the tile. Eon reaches out to scratch his head, which looks kind of strange since he's not visible. I can hear his pleased clicking even over the sound of Torque slurping up his meal.

Since everyone else has been served, I grab the pot and scoop out a helping. I'm not incredibly hungry, but I know it's just because I miss HB. I don't want to shrivel away because nothing looks appetizing anymore. It'll get better once I'm home.

The food in the middle of the table disappears quickly. As soon as the others are done, Torque scrapes together what's left and fills his plate one last time. I'm thinking his nickname could be 'The Garbage Disposal'. Every meal, this is what he does, so there's never any leftovers. The Society probably pours more money into feeding Torque than they do into any other outlet. I do wonder if he eats more or less than a real rhinoceros.

Near the end of the meal, Dr. Andrews comes in with a file held out and a smile creasing his face, "We heard back from John's bureau. They've agreed to assist us and are flying out in the morning. You're going home John."

"Really?" I exclaim.

I can't keep the excitement out of my voice. As thrilled as I am though, it kind of comes tumbling down when Eon pushes away from the table with a crushed look and runs out.

"Oh dear," Dr. Andrews mutters in the silence that follows.

"Should I go after her?" I ask no one in particular.

The answer comes from Yvette, her words are hard and angry, "I think you've done enough, wolf boy." She goes after Eon, but not before giving me the most ireful glare I've ever been stuck with. I can't help but wince.

"I didn't mean to make everyone so upset…" I mumble.

"Not everybody, just the women-folk," Lazarus tries to joke, but it falls flat. "We're all going to miss you, though."

Torque nods, his bottom lip trembling slightly. "You're family."

His statement twists my heart up into a knot. I won't cry, I never do before I actually have to leave someone, but I feel like I could. "I wish I could stay, I really do, but…" I trail off, not sure how to say it.

"But you need to be with your mate," Dr. Andrews fills in.

"Yeah, you've got somebody you love. Just remember to come visit us, yeah?" Lazarus says with a smile. He leaves the discussion there, getting up to clear the table.

I try not to laugh bitterly at the idea of visiting. The likelihood that Manning would let me come back here for a cursory visit without there being something maniacal behind it is slim to none. That is, if he doesn't ship me off the minute I get home. It's a very real possibility.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I wake up in the dead of the night in a cold sweat. The nightmare I was having slips away in foggy snatches before I can really grasp what was happening. There was something about a thick wall between Red and I and we could get close, but couldn't touch. There was something on my side, and Red was yelling and pounding on the wall, but he couldn't break it… I can't remember the rest.

I pull HB's jacket up around my shoulders. I've taken to sleeping with it in hopes that his smell would help me rest, but it only worked the first night. At this point, I'm almost tempted to take pills to knock me cold until the morning. When I'm not tossing and turning because I can't drift off, I'm having some kind of horrendous nightmare that inevitably snaps me out of sleep an hour or two into the night.

I lean over to check the bedside clock. The absurdly bright digital numbers read 4:20 AM. No point in staying in bed, I'll be up in an hour anyway. I toss my feet over the side and sit there for a while. I'm not really awake enough to just hop up, I'd probably run into something in my groggy state, but I'm pretty sound after a couple minutes.

A very faint voice perks my ears. Someone else is up. I slip my arms into HB's coat and wander down the hall. As I get closer to the source of the sound, it starts to clear up. It sounds like an infomercial, "Buy now and we'll send you, not one, but two!" The announcer's canned excitement is mildly catching, but that's what they pay him for. Why anyone needs two of something that's only available through a TV offer is beyond me.

I vaguely remember my Grandmother ordering anything and everything that the TV claimed 'you couldn't live without'. My Dad would always grumble that she was wasting her retirement fund, but there wasn't any arguing with her. She was a stubborn as he was.

The sharp glow of the TV is spilling out of the recreation room, so I shamble that direction. Lazarus is sitting on the couch, watching the infomercial with minimal interest, with Eon curled up on his chest. She's got her thumb in her mouth, showing her age while she sleeps.

"She had a nightmare that the mimes came and took you away," Lazarus says quietly.

I come across the room and fall onto the couch next to him, asking, "She's afraid of mimes?"

"Always has been."

"Well, I guess some kids are afraid of clowns, so why not mimes."

"Oh, don't even bring up clowns."

I glance over at him, "She afraid of both?"

"Yep."

We're both quiet for a time, watching some washed up British star talking enthusiastically about an exercise machine. He gets on it and the cameraman spends way too much time filming his legs and ass.

"That makes me want one," I comment sarcastically. I get a slight chuckle out of Lazarus.

"For that price, it had better have the voice of God giving me a pep-talk from the control panel."

"Maybe not the voice of God, wouldn't Jesus be better?"

"How so?"

"Well, he's had a human body, so he's got to know how hard it is to work your ass off. You'd think the voice of God would just be kind of hypocritical. I doubt he spends his time in heaven on an elliptical."

"True."

I'm fairly certain that strange conversation was based off the fact that I've gotten about six hours of sleep all week. I remind myself that I'll be home by tomorrow, but it's a bittersweet fact. I look down at Eon, muttering, "No offense to the rest of you, but I'm going to miss her most. She's the closest thing I've ever had to a little sister."

Lazarus pets her curly hair, "She'd probably be a lot more bad-tempered with you if you were her brother. She causes just as much trouble as Torque."

"I noticed, but she doesn't get in trouble as much as he does. She gives you the most innocent look when you catch her red-handed."

"You fell for it, didn't you?"

I smile, "Yeah." She'd been painting cutesy designs all over Torque while he was napping. After that look though, I couldn't get mad at her for it. It wasn't like she was doing anything truly harmful.

"You're just lucky she didn't pull the crocodile tears. She starts those up and she can get away with murder."

We both watch her sleep quietly, thinking our separate thoughts.

"You mind if I hold her for awhile?" I ask, reaching out my arms.

Lazarus transfers her to me as gently as possible, trying not to jar her awake. She squirms a little, but otherwise doesn't notice the transition. When she shifts and gets settled against my chest, she's asleep again instantly.

"Wish I could sleep like that," I whisper.

Lazarus smiles, "Don't we all?"

A new infomercial comes on and there's a woman with a massive gap in her teeth selling a food processor. She's got a lilt to her accent, like she's from a different part of England. I don't pay it too much attention.

"Why are you watching this crap? Isn't there something better on?"

"No. We can't afford any more channels, so this is all that's on after about midnight," Lazarus sighs.

They really need better funding. "When I get home, I'm putting a check in the mail. Use it to get cable," I say, half-joking, half-serious. The poor guy never sleeps and this is what he does? It's got to be rotting his brain.

We zone for a minute, watching the lady grind up vegetable after vegetable to make some funky-looking sauce. Every time she smiles, all I can see is that massive gap between her teeth. My brain finally kicks in and I look away from the TV.

"I appreciate what you've done for me, but I have to tell you that I'll probably get shipped out again almost immediately. If Manning doesn't want me there, there's not much I can do about it," I admit regretfully. Eon shifts in my arms. I wait until she settles back down to kiss the top of her head. "I doubt he'll send me back here."

Lazarus pushes off the couch. "You know what, if he sends you somewhere crappy, we'll come pick you up. You just give us a call, anytime." He pats my shoulder and I know he truly means it.

"Can I get you a coffee?" he asks, walking for the door.

"Yeah," I return. I'm already tired and it's going to be a long day; I could use the caffeine.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I want to say that I'm not nervous, but I am. I'm sitting in the back of the bakery van, fooling with a pair of six-shooters that Mr. Westfield gave to me. I feel like a wannabe cowboy. They didn't have anything newer and I really didn't want to go into the mission unarmed, but I may as well be unarmed, considering how unfamiliar I am with guns this old.

Mr. Westfield showed me how to open the chamber so I can load them, but a pocketful of bullets isn't as comforting as an automatic pistol and an easy-load clip. I slide them back into their holsters and glance up at the others. It's the first time I've actually seen them decked out in battle gear.

Torque doesn't wear much more than he normally does, but he has a massive mace strapped to his back. I feel bad that he has to be crammed in the back of the van. His head slams into the ceiling with every pothole we encounter.

Yvette doesn't bring anything into battle apparently, since she is a living weapon. Eon isn't armed, for which I'm grateful. When I spoke to Lazarus about it, he confirmed that Eon doesn't do any fighting. She comes to the missions purely as a problem solver.

I think Lazarus's gear surprises me the most. I don't know what I was expecting, since he doesn't really strike me as a violent man, but duel-wielding swords was pretty far from anything I could have imagined.

I pull out one of the six-shooters again, rotating the ammo-cylinder slowly. I've never handled a weapon so ancient. I hope they work. I guess, if it backfired, I would be okay. Chalk that up to another plus for being a wolf.

Lazarus goes over the final plans as we get close, "The BPRD should be arriving any minute, so we'll be unloading at the location and Eon will go with Ralph-"

Eon shakes her head and crosses her arms over her chest, a pout immediately dominating her face. It was a very obvious, 'You're not leaving me behind.'

"Eon, I need you to brief the others on what to expect when they arrive," Lazarus explains easily.

Red and the others have probably already received their brief and Lazarus knows that, but this mission might be too dangerous for Eon. We'd rather have the others with us to help wrangle the wyrm.

She finally resigns to the idea with a nod.

"Good," Lazarus sighs. I think he was expecting more of a fight from her. "Your whiteboard is behind the seats."

We stop rather abruptly and Rex slides across the aluminum flooring. He flares a few frustrated colors before he vanishes again. Yvette creaks open the back door to see where we're at. We don't want to pile out into an intersection if Ralph just hit a red light.

"We're here," she says, shoving the door open the rest of the way.

The first thing Yvette does outside the van is light up a cigarette. She sort of glares at me when she does it. I'd asked her to put out her cigarette in the van because I was choking on the smoke in the tiny space. I've never liked the smell of smoke, but between my wolf's nose and the fact that she only smokes black-paper Russian's (which have stronger EVERYTHING in them, and are illegal in most countries) I just couldn't take it.

Yvette takes a long drag on her cigarette and blows several smoke rings, still glaring at me. I'm not entirely sure whether she's pissed that I told her to put her out of her cigarette or because I'm going home. Maybe it's a little bit of both.

"Just let them know what they're up against, okay?" Lazarus gives Eon her last minute instructions. When she nods, he gives her a tight hug and sends her to sit in the front with Ralph.

"We could use Rex to find the wyrm," Yvette mentions offhandedly. "These catacombs are always like a maze."

I peer at the castle ruins. It's ironic that a dragon-like creature would take refuge in a castle. Or is it expected? Hell, I don't know, we're just here to kill it.

"I can find it," I say. At least I think I can. I haven't tracked something with my new senses, but I have to start somewhere. "Rex can help the others find us." I load the six-shooters and slam them shut.

"Then let's go," Torque says, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

He's getting anxious to jump into a fight; I know that kind of behavior from HB. Calm one minute and looking to bust heads the next. It's what they live for, I guess.

We head into the ruins slowly, Lazarus in the lead. The team is armed with flashlights for now, but I stay out of the light. My eyes seem to work much better without the glare. I sniff the air, feeling slightly foolish and like I'm pretending to be Wolverine.

I don't smell anything at first, just stale air and Yvette's cigarette, but I catch a whiff of something as we pass by a dark chamber. It smells like meat and old leather. It might be a dead cow for all I know, but I cut into the chamber.

"Hey, wolf-boy, tell us when you leave the group," Yvette yells after me.

"Hang on, I'm just checking something," I yell back, stepping over a large piece of stone.

My foot encounters an object that crunches. I wince when I look down to see that I'm standing in what's left of someone's ribcage. The rest of him is laying nearby, but in multiple pieces. As often as I see human carnage in this job, I never get used to it. My heart leaps into jackrabbit mode, but I'm not really scared. The wolf sort of pulses beneath my skin, comforting me. I'm mildly thankful that all that's left of him is bone.

"I think we should be heading this way," I shout back at the group.

Lazarus flicks his light in my direction and I shield my eyes against it. "Did you pick up his trail?"

"No, just his leftovers, but I smell something pretty strong."

I follow the scent across the chamber to a deep, twisting set of stairs. The meat and leather is heavily masked by the smell of decomposing flesh. It's so strong that I nearly gag.

"It's definitely coming from down here," I say, putting the sleeve of HB's jacket over my nose. "How many people did you say this thing killed?"

Lazarus and Yvette are picking their way across the bone-littered chamber, but Torque just stomps through it, not really caring what he steps on. He gets to me before they do.

"Not too many, as far as we know. They tried to open up this castle for tourists, but the group they hired to restore the place went missing," Lazarus says as he kneels to pick up a skull.

He turns to Yvette with a smile, the skull held aloft, and she grumbles at him, "You start making Hamlet jokes, I'll kill you myself."

"Aw, where's your sense of humor? I'll have you know that I saw Hamlet the first night it opened. Shakespeare came out and announced the players, it was pretty incredible," he lays the skull where he found it.

"Knowing you and your culture, you fell asleep during the first act."

I roll my eyes at their banter, heading down the stairwell. I don't get past three or four steps before someone grabs my shoulder.

"Why don't you let me go first, John?" Lazarus offers. "If there is something down there, I'd rather be the one to find it. I can come back – you can't."

I nod and let him pass, trailing after him. Torque doesn't fit well in the narrow staircase, and I hear him grunting and complaining as he squeezes down sideways. I try not to snicker at his plight. "You doing okay back there, Torque?" I toss at him, knowing exactly what kind of answer I'll get.

"Shut up," he grumps at me.

The stairwell opens up into a massive room that was not made by man. It's almost cavern-like, except the rock looks like it was carved away with a multi-faceted tool. Jagged gouges spatter the wall, in no particular order or pattern. The lines almost remind me of scales and I get the image of the wyrm sliding its body against the cavern walls to carve out its den. I don't know if that's how it was done, but that's my theory.

The stench of death is heavier here, so much so that I retch, but there's nothing in my stomach to toss. I guess the right word for that would be dry-heave.

"You okay, wolf-boy?"

"Yeah," I gasp, propping one hand against the wall. "The smell's a bit much."

The smell of fresh meat would probably make me hungry, but this stench is old and foul. Whatever's making it has been dead for days. We're close to it now though, I can hear the flies. After a minute, the nausea passes.

"Let's go," I say, pushing off the wall.

Lazarus makes his light dance over the floor in front of us, illuminating dark stains, "I wouldn't say it smells that bad."

"You spend a few minutes with my nose and say that."

"Good point."

I spot the masses on the floor just before Lazarus's light flashes over them. I don't need the light to know what they are.

"Sheep," I note.

There's not much left of them, just fragments and bits. If you put the pieces together, it might make up one sheep, but there's got to be the remains of about twelve bodies here. Lazarus's flashlight catches on a face, frozen in terror. I can see the maggots wriggling in its gaping mouth and feel another swell of nausea.

"Why are we still standing here? It's disgusting," Yvette asks after a moment.

"Train wreck syndrome," Lazarus mumbles, continuing to shine the light over the mangled limbs and appendages.

Yvette slaps his shoulder and we finally break out of our collective trance so we can move around the carnage. I trip over something, but I don't look down to see what it was. I don't think I want to know.

The cavern floor dips sharply a few yards later, becoming a large, almost perfectly round tunnel. There's a similar tunnel to the far left of us and another straight ahead. This is definitely the cross-center of its maze. The tunnels are almost twenty feet in diameter and I find myself hoping that the wyrm isn't the same width. If it is, this thing is a lot bigger than we were expecting.

Low rumbling echoes from the tunnel to the left, something I know the others can't hear yet. It sounds like a subway train heading towards us.

"Where to next, John?" Lazarus asks, looking from one tunnel to another.

I slowly draw the six-shooters out of their holsters, "I don't think we're going to have to go anywhere; I think it's coming to us."

Torque's long ears flick towards the tunnel. His hearing is better than a human's, so I'm willing to bet that he's picked up the noise too. "It's big," he says, yanking the mace off his back.

It's getting much louder, a scratching, scraping sound moving damn fast, like hundreds of rock drillers moving at breakneck speed towards us. I think Eon might have been right; I think we underestimated this thing.

The creature's face swarms out of the dark tunnel first, its mouth cracked open in a long hiss, and its snake-like body follows. It arches up as high as the cavern roof will allow, the massive scales pulling away from its body like a puff adder. I unload my guns into it. The bullets ricochet every which direction. Only one of them pierces the wyrm's skin, inside its mouth. The scales are going to be a problem.

As I'm reloading, the wyrm arches back and opens its mouth. It inhales sharply and Lazarus yells, "Scatter!"

Fire explodes from the wyrm's mouth, licking the rocks where we were standing seconds before. It brightens the cavern, especially when it catches the sheep remains. I thought the stench was bad before, but it's ten times worse when they start burning.

"I think the fact that it breathes fire is a NEED-TO-KNOW THING!" I scream at the others, popping a few more rounds into its open mouth. "How did that not make it to the file?"

Torque paws the ground twice before barreling towards the wyrm. It slaps him away with the side of its head before he can get close enough to do any damage. His back slams into the wall, but it doesn't slow him down any. He gets up and charges again.

I go one way; Yvette and Lazarus head the other. The wyrm focuses on them, giving Torque a chance to slam his mace into its side. He dents a few of the scales and gets slapped away again. The wyrm pulls back its head, drawing in a hiss of air with the intention of burning Yvette to a crisp. She's got her hands extended, though, drawing energy from the wyrm. I don't think she knows she's in its sights.

I open my mouth to scream, to warn her somehow, but the wyrm's fire is coming faster than my words. Lazarus darts towards her and I hear her yelp of surprise, but fire engulfs the place where they were standing and I can't tell what happened.

We can't keep this up.

I spot the perfect target. I take aim, putting a bullet in the dead center of the wyrm's eye. Ha! I got it! It screeches and throws its head back, but immediately turns its attention to me. Out of my peripheral vision, I see Yvette back at work, but now I'm the one in trouble.

I empty my guns on it, without much effect, and the last thought I have as it darts towards me is, 'oh crap.'

- HB

If I have to go on another transatlantic flight in next decade, it'll be too soon. I hate being stuck in a fucking plane without anything to do. Good news is, I'm now on the RIGHT continent to find John and we didn't bring any agents with us except Ellis. Don't know how we managed to get away with so few babysitters, maybe because the mission is supposed to be 'difficult'. As soon as we're done screwing around with this worm, thing, I know what I'll be doing. Though, this did come at a really convenient time, I wonder if there's more to it?

Blue's voice breaks into my thoughts, "There is." I look up at him, about to give him the usual gripe about being in my brain, but he interrupts me, "The team we are meeting with is the team that John was transferred to. They arranged this meeting by finding an appropriate mission that would need our incorporation."

"Really?"

"Indeed."

Well, I still know what I'll be doing once we're done dealing with the worm. I guess everybody was planning this while I was locked up. It would figure that I had no idea what the hell was going on.

"Did you know about that?" I ask Liz.

She gives me a light shrug as she pulls on her boots. "Yeah, but I only found out about it before we got on the plane."

"And in the eighteen hours we've been on the damn plane, you couldn't have brought this up?"

Liz smirks, "What fun would it have been if you weren't sulking?"

"Like you don't sulk all the time," I grump.

It's the worst damn comeback EVER, but I can't think of anything else to say. It doesn't bother me that much, 'cause I'm going to see 'Scout tonight. And I know exactly what I want to do to him, with him hot and sexy beneath me, making those noises I love. Shit, if I keep that up, I'm going to have a boner before we get off the plane. Mmm… but damn it's a nice thought.

Should be reality soon enough.

The back of the plane cranks open and I check the Samaritan's rounds before shoving it into its holster, "Showtime."

I lead the team out, raising my eyebrow at the little kid that greets us. She holding a dry-erase board with 'BPRD' on it, like she would run into somebody else coming off a cargo plane on an abandoned airstrip.

Liz has a very girly moment (for her) and squeals, "She is so adorable!"

The kid gets a wide-eyed look when Liz picks her up and hugs her. Can't really blame her from being in shock. We're people she barely knows and one of us is already cuddling her like she's a relative.

"What's with the kindergarten brigade?" I ask, sticking a cigar in my mouth.

Liz and the little girl both glare at me.

"HB, be nice," Liz scolds me.

"What? I was just asking."

The kid wipes her board clean and scribbles something else on it, turning it around so everybody can see it, 'I'm Eon. I was sent to give you your final brief.'

Why the hell doesn't she talk? Speaking of, Blue's being awful quiet. I glance over my shoulder at him. He's just standing there, studying the little girl. There's definitely something off about her if he's trying so hard to figure it out.

"So you're part of the team?" I hear Liz ask her. There's a pause, then Liz again, "Wow, you're the tactician? You must be very smart."

"She is," Blue perks up. "She's the most intelligent human I have ever come in contact with. At this very moment, she's solving the theory of light relative to time travel in her head." There's something else that he closes his mouth on, something I guess he didn't want to bring up.

That's… pretty impressive for a five-year-old. It's no wonder Abe's trying to figure her out. Eon squirms a little and Liz sets her down, she makes a beeline for Abe.

She gestures at him with her hands and Blue nods at her, "I do understand sign language." She grins and signs something that makes him chuckle. "Is that so?" he asks.

A guy climbs out of what I thought was an abandoned truck and yells at us, "We should probably get going. Why don't you continue your chit-chat in the van?"

Looking at the run-down bakery van, it's the first time I have EVER missed riding around in the garbage truck. It's not even like it has a high-tech interior that's hidden by the crappy exterior, it's about the same inside. It looks like they just gutted a regular bakery van and bolted some benches against the walls. There are holes in the roof and claw marks on the floor.

We pile in uncomfortably, the little girl scooting about as close as she can get to Abe.

"It looks like she's got a crush on you Abe," Liz teases, smiling.

"So, are we going to get briefed, or what?" I ask, taking a long drag on my cigar. As cute as it all is (note sarcasm), I'd really rather get down to business.

Eon signs to Abe, giving me a look while she's at it, and Abe chuckles again, "That's true."

I'm getting sick of only hearing half of this conversation, especially since I know they're talking about me. She picks up her board before I can say anything.

'We're fighting a wyrm,' she writes, underlining the letter 'y'. It's a non-traditional spelling that I've seen somewhere else. I'm sure Blue'll recognize it. Wait, I think it was from a medieval text, something about it being a relative of a dragon.

"With the 'y', doesn't that mean," I start, prompting Blue.

He picks it up immediately, filling in what I couldn't remember, "The 'y' in the spelling dictates that it is a very large, scaled creature that was often mistaken for a dragon. In reality, it is much longer than a dragon, but has no wings or legs. It's more like a snake, actually. They were thought to be extinct."

"We've fought a lot of things that are 'extinct'. Hell, we don't even exist, right?" I comment.

Blue shrugs, "True, but there is the fact that, even in our field, a wyrm sighting hasn't been documented in over a century."

I look back at the little kid, "That everything?"

She wipes her board clean and writes, 'You summed up what I was going to tell you.'

We take a sharp curve and this thing appears out of nowhere, sliding across the floor. It's an ugly son of a gun, with huge claws and way too many teeth for my liking. "Whoa!" I yell, pulling out the Samaritan.

Eon motions at me frantically, but hell if I know what she's saying.

Blue translates before I can pop a cap in the ugly bastard, "Wait Red. It's her pet."

"Pet?" I ask skeptically. It looks more like something drudged from the deepest level of hell. It growls at me and I very nearly shoot it anyway. "She should get a cat," I grumble, putting my gun away.

"You just think that because you have a million cats," Liz says dryly.

"So?"

"So what? You're a crazy old cat lady HB, in demonic form."

"Am not!"

"Can you even tell me how many you have now?"

I start a tally in my head, but I lose track at about twenty-seven. She does have a point… Maybe I should get somebody to take them to get fixed. Every time one of them has kittens, it means another bag of cat food every month. I already feed them in nine by twelve baking pans. Not that I'm going to give her the satisfaction of knowing that she's right.

"I have enough."

"Crazy old cat lady," she proclaims triumphantly.

"Yeah, shut up." I flop back against the wall, letting them laugh about it for a while. If I keep arguing with her, she'll just make it worse. Liz can turn anything I say against me, but she's always been like that, since day one.

My gut starts to knot up. 'Scout and the others are already fighting this thing, but the impression I'm getting from Abe and Eon is that they really should've waited for us. What if things are already going downhill? Fuck, I wish the driver would step on it. I know 'Scout can take care of himself, but if I lose him… hell…

It takes WAY too damn long to get there. Blue says it was 'only' twenty minutes, it felt longer. I jump out as soon as we stop, "Come on, let's go."

The kid makes a motion and that weird, color-changing thing scrabbles out of the back of the van and darts around me. It (or is it a he?) stops to lick the dirt. No, I didn't say that wrong, he licked the dirt. He does it a couple times and takes off again.

Abe comes up behind me, "Apparently that is how Rex tracks. He follows scent trails with his tongue. It's very fascinating."

"I would lean more towards gross."

Blue hums a little, but doesn't say anything else. Fascinating or gross, Rex does lead us right to them, only stopping once to check out a human skull (which he then ate). He turns to a flight of stairs, but I can hear the fight now, I don't wait for him to finish his snack.

I'm coming John. I hate feeling like something's wrong, like I'm too late. He's fine, he's gotta' be… But, if he's not, there's going to be some serious trouble.

Before I can even get a good look around the cave at the end of the stairs, something big and heavy hits me. I fall back on my ass like that time I got hit by a fucking train. Whatever it is gets off pretty quick and I realize that it's a freak like us. What the hell is he smashin' into me for?

"Watch where you're going," I yell as I climb to my feet.

He stops, turning back to me with a glare. There's a big horn in the smack-middle of his face, like a rhino. A second after I yell at him, he's charging at me. I don't think twice about fighting back. We slam together, more grappling than fighting. He's bigger than me, but I've fought bigger and it doesn't mean he's stronger.

I use his weight to toss him over my shoulder. He only stays down an instant, jumping up immediately to drive an arm into my stomach. Son of a bitch! I grab his arm and push him back into the wall.

Liz is shouting at us, but we ignore her. We don't stop fighting until this other chick screams at us in Russian. The rhino guy freezes and stares past me as the chick keeps hollering, "Torque, why am I the only one fighting? Get your ass over here!"

Torque (I guess he's called) charges around me, giving me a glare as he passes. I follow after him. Time to get back to business. The wyrm is pretty big, probably fifty or sixty feet long, but half of it's still hidden in a tunnel.

I glance down at a body near my foot. The guy's a crispy critter. I'm trying to figure out how he got that way when he sits up. "Holy!" I shoot him point blank. He didn't scare me, I swear, but corpses don't just get up for no apparent reason. Well, whether he was an undead or not quite deceased, my special-made bullets will put him out of his misery.

I step over him and scour the room for any sign of 'Scout. There's a lot going on: Torque's on the wyrm's back trying to peel a scale off, and the angry Russian chick is throwing some kind of energy at it, and that dog thing is chewing through its side, but I don't see John anywhere.

Behind me, I hear, "Who shot me?"

Abe answers… wait, who the hell is he talking to, the corpse? "You must be agent Lazarus."

I turn around to see him talking with Crispy. If Abe isn't bothered by the fact that Crispy won't DIE, then he knows something I don't. Whatever. I unload a couple bullets on the wyrm, but its scales are too thick. I thought that'd be the case.

"Where's John?" I shout at the Russian.

She doesn't look at me when she answers, "The bitch ate him whole. If we kill it soon, maybe he'll still be alive."

"Ate him?" I sound like an idiot repeating her, but I have to be sure I heard that right. There's no fucking way 'Scout got eaten. He's quick enough to avoid that, isn't he? I think back to the first day he worked with us, when he got nicked by a car, then nearly pancaked by another… My stomach drops somewhere into my feet.

"Da, eaten! You going to do-" she shuts up halfway through her sentence as the wyrm pulls its head back and inhales, "Fuck, move!"

She darts away, but I head straight for the son of a bitch, right through the fire it spits at me. It'll have to do a hell of a lot better than that if it expects to stop me. I jump up on one of the curves of its body, rip back a scale, and unload my gun into the wyrm. It thrashes pretty good, but it doesn't get rid of me. Problem is, I have to let go to reload.

"Red," Abe yells, except Abe isn't too loud and I'm not paying too much attention.

"RED!" Liz this time, more of a screech.

I look up from trying to balance a new set of bullets and my hold on the wyrm, "What?"

It tosses me off the second I'm not paying attention. I should've ignored them. I roll and ugly hits me with another blast of fire. I'm pretty sure that my shirt is officially cinders. I liked this shirt…

"What?" I shout again. They've already screwed up my position, so I might as well hear what they want to say. There's a reason I like to work alone. Ugly makes matters worse by swatting me a couple feet through the air. I land on my knees. It hurts, but I've had worse, lot's worse. I grumble and dust myself off.

Crispy's up now, standing with Abe and Eon. He's got a pair of swords, which seems kind of archaic to me, but whatever gets him off.

"The wyrm secretes fire using two glands-"

I butt into Blue's speech. 'Scout doesn't have time to waste on technical shit. "Cut to the chase, what do I do?"

"A large force must be applied to the sides of his jaw to destroy the-"

"Great," I interrupt again. He can explain later, we need to take this thing out.

I make a motion at Torque so he'll stop charging blindly, "You want to do something useful?" He's about the same size as me. If we do this together, maybe we can get it right the first time.

A flare of energy flies past me, making the wyrm pretty pissed. It snaps at the Russian, but she gets backup from Crispy. He takes a chunk out of its nose with his sword. While they keep ugly busy, Torque and I figure out what the fuck the plan is.

"Look, I'm fireproof, so I'll bring ugly down to our level, but you've got to be ready to jump in. Got it?"

"Got it," he answers.

"Alright. Crispy, Russian, get your asses back."

The chick starts to say something to me, but Crispy pulls her out of the way. I'm getting the feeling that chick has a serious problem with anyone telling her what to do, like Liz, but worse. She give Crispy a good smack for dragging her off too, shouting at him while he gets her out of the line of fire (literally.)

When everybody is at the edge of the cave except me and Torque, the wyrm focuses on us.

"As soon as it's close enough, you nail it," I tell the rhino, getting a snort in response. "Hey ugly!" I yell up at it, waving my arms.

First thing it does it spit fire at me, but, when I don't turn into a piece of charcoal, it hisses. I'm hoping it gets pissed enough to try and take a chunk out of me.

"That all you got? Come on, you bastard!"

It arches back, eyeing me. What, is he weighing his options; do I look like I won't taste good? Let's go, ugly. I really hope this isn't a smart monster and he's figured out what's going on. That would suck. John can't have long left (if he isn't dead already) so I'm going to have to change tactics if this fucker doesn't cooperate.

John better not be dead… If he is, I'm going to hold Manning personally responsible and mount his ass on my wall as a trophy. He may have had more pressing things to do than come on this excursion, but I'm still going to blame him.

"Come on you son of a-" I don't finish my sentence before it lunges at me. Holy hell, it's fast! A lot faster than I thought it was going to be. I jump out of the way, but I can feel scales scrape across my side.

I don't waste any time checking to see if I'm wounded. Instead, I slam my stone fist against the edge of the wyrm's jaw. The bone crunches under my hit. Right on cue, Toque hammers the other side of it.

When it snaps its head out of our reach, its jaw is just hanging there. There's spit, or something coming out of his mouth in a waterfall. Well, maybe more of a drizzle than a waterfall. The wyrm screeches, which sounds like nails on a chalkboard, and shakes its head around.

"Nice moves," I shoot at Torque. "Now let's kill this thing."

He nods. We both charge at it, going different directions to keep from getting taken out at the same time. Ugly doesn't take long to decide which one of use is a bigger threat and it comes down on me. Since it can't bite me anymore, it uses its head like a sledgehammer, smashing into me.

I grab one of the bony ridges on top of its head, mostly because I can't think of anything else to do. It sits up, trying to shake me off. I hang on with my stone hand and grab my gun with the other. If I pump lead into it this close, maybe I can destroy its brain.

I get one shot off before it slams me into a wall. My gun flies out of my hand, dropping somewhere on the cave floor. The wyrm slides me around a little, like somebody trying to scrape something nasty off their shoe. I curl my tail out of the way to avoid losing it on a sharp edge. Pain shoots across my back.

"Ow."

When this is all said and done, I'm going to need some aspirin and a beer.

"Nice try," I grunt, hooking my foot up into the bloody eye-socket for leverage. He must've lost the eye earlier in the fight, but the socket makes the perfect step. I shove my weight forward the minute I'm not being crushed against the wall, climbing on top of the wyrm's head.

It's like riding a bucking bronco, not that I've ever been at a rodeo, let alone participated in one, but I'm going to go with that. I hold onto one of its horns and slam my fist against the crown of its skull. I do it again, and again, making a real good dent.

"Gimme. Back. John!" I punctuate each word with another brutal hit.

It can't be too late to save him. It can't be.

- John

I gasp for air where I can, but my lungs are filled with an acidic fog that burns more than it helps. Walls of flesh press against me, crushing me and forcing me along. I dig my fingers into the thick tissue, desperately trying to claw my way back up this thing's throat. My heart is pounding in my ears. Maybe it's the wyrm's heart, but I can't be sure. It's so hard to tell what anything is through the panic that grips my body in a stranglehold.

I finally fall into a thick pool of liquid. The fumes coming off of it burn my eyes, but the smell is twenty times worse than that. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to stop the mind-numbing pain, but there's no way for me to block the atrocious stench of gore. My skin that's submerged in the disgusting liquid starts to sting slightly.

Oh shit, I'm in its stomach!

I try to scramble to my feet, to get as much of my body out of the acid as I can, but every time I get up, the wall of the stomach shifts and I fall back to my hands and knees. I attempt to steady my nerves (it's a relatively useless attempt) and try to focus on the change. As a wolf, I should be able to rip my way out of this. Heat floods my senses and my skin starts to tingle.

A roar shakes me to the core of my being, breaking my concentration. The fleshy walls contract around me and force me down into the acid. God, I burn! The pain is so far beyond a sting now that I'm certain I'll be scarred beyond recognition if I do get out of here.

If…

I try not to laugh wildly at that word. There's no way I'm getting out of here. In a few days, there won't be anything left of me but wyrm shit.

The stomach walls relax and I manage to sit back on my knees, coughing and sputtering. Every breath of the acrid air sends stars flashing behind my eyelids, but not the good kind. A sob escapes before I can stop it. I can't cry.

Then again, who's here to see me? What's it matter if I break down in the last few minutes of my existence, no one would care. No one would even know. I never expected to die alone… I never expected to die like this… but I didn't expect a lot of the turns my life took.

They say that life flashes before your eyes when you die, but my life doesn't really flash, I just think about it. When I was a kid, I wanted to be a banker when I grew up, like my dad. What the hell kind of kid wants to be a banker? All the other boys wanted to be firemen, or astronauts, or police officers, but I was always the odd one out.

I scream, but no sound comes out. My throat must be burned raw from the air.

Honestly, I became an FBI agent because I never believed that my parents' deaths were an accident. They died when I was eight and nobody could convince me that my dad just fell asleep at the wheel. I was so influenced by the idea that it had to be foul play that I spent the next ten years of my life studying law and criminology in my spare time.

I probably had enough knowledge to become a lawyer, but I got a letter from the government saying that my test scores were very interesting and that I could have immediate entrance into a federal training facility. I sat through three years of college before I accepted their invitation.

In all my years, I never, NEVER thought I would be involved with something like the BPRD and I definitely didn't imagine that I would become a werewolf and take a demon mate. Funny, I think if I was presented with these ideas as a kid, or a teenager, I would've… I don't know what I would've done, but I wouldn't have believed that any of it was possible.

But I wouldn't change a single decision I made. As weird as my life has been, I think things were the very best after I met HB.

I cough and taste blood in my mouth. Doesn't really surprise me. Your lungs can only take so much damage before they start shutting down. I'm not as scared as I was. Isn't that something that can happen, acceptance? I think it has something to do with understanding that death is inevitable and knowing that panicking won't change anything.

Either that or the fumes are starting to affect my brain. I might have to vote for the latter.

Soft light catches the edge of my vision. I have to admit, the first thing that entered my mind when I saw it was the whole 'light at the end of the tunnel' thing, but I realize a second later that its real light, light from outside. It flashes through the skin walls, making my hellish prison deep red.

'I'm here!' I try to yell, but I still can't make my voice work.

Instead, I press my hands against the flesh, hoping to make my presence known. I curl my fingers against it and grow claws. I don't change completely, but I'm surprised how easily it comes to me now when I couldn't even call on my wolf before.

I grab onto that light like a beacon of hope, saying a silent prayer of thanks to whatever deity that might be guarding my back, and crawl from the wyrm's stomach. I brush past Rex and recognize him instantly. He's munching happily on the wyrm's insides. He pauses to lick some of the grime from my face and continues to eat, even after I've clawed my way through the hole he's made.

I fall onto the stone floor, gasping the clean air desperately. The breaths rip through my ragged lungs with a massive amount of pain, but it gets better with every minute that passes. When I'm breathing normally, I weakly push myself into a sitting position so I can survey the battleground.

I can't see too much, since I'm surrounded by curls of the wyrm's body. I stumble to my feet and navigate my way out slowly. Just being this close to a monster would have scared the hell out of me in the past, but I guess things would change after being eaten. One of the coils shifts closer to me as the wyrm does god knows what. I adjust my path a little to keep from getting knocked over. I'm wobbly enough that someone could sneeze on me and I'd probably collapse, so I'm not going anywhere near that thing.

When I get out into the open, I almost burst into hysterics. My team! Abe is crouched down next to Eon, discussing weak points, and Liz is on fire from head to toe with Yvette drawing energy off of her, and… I have to look around for HB, but I spot him way up on the wyrm's head. He's hammering on it with his stone fist.

His words float down to me, "Gimme back John!"

"Should we warn him?" I hear Yvette say. I look back at them, at the fact that Yvette now looks like she's the fire starter because she's covered in Liz's energy.

Liz shakes her head, "He'll be fine, throw it."

It takes me a split second to realize what they're doing. Liz can cause an explosion that could clear out the cave, but it would kill everyone here. Yvette has an immense amount of control over the energy she steals, so she can do things with Liz's fire that Liz can't even begin to consider.

But the wyrm breathes fire, isn't he fireproof too?

Yvette gathers the energy into her hands and chunks it with a shout. As the fireball gets close, the fluid seeping from the wyrm's mouth catches just before it hits. The fluid must have been how the wyrm created its fire, because the impact with the ball of flame is catastrophic. There's a massive explosion that tosses Red several dozen feet and leaves the wyrm wavering without much skull left. The body seems to collapse in slow motion.

I make my way over to Red, picking over the wyrm's twitching body. Before I can get to him, HB has grabbed one of Lazarus's swords and started carving into the wyrm.

"Hang on John, I'm coming!"

He makes a hole big enough to stick his arm in and yanks out Rex in a morbid version of a magic trick. He must have seen Rex moving and assumed it was me. HB drops him, "Get outta' here!"

Rex clicks at him unhappily and goes right back to feasting on the corpse.

"That was like a scene out of Alien," HB mutters and keeps digging around frantically.

When I think I've let him sweat enough (actually, I'm just too exhausted to climb up to him) I call out, "What are you doing?"

Red stops and looks around, right over my head at first. When he spots me, the biggest grin I have ever seen cuts across his face, "John!" He scrambles off the wyrm and I'm really expecting a bear hug. Instead, he curls his stone hand around my back and gently wipes some of the gunk off my face.

"You're a mess, kid," he murmurs softly.

I practically collapse in his arms as the weight of the past few weeks catches up to me, pressing my lips to his as best I can. I realized that I needed to be held by him, but I was underestimating how much I needed it. I needed him as much as I needed air, and food, and water.

Red kisses me slowly and sensually, taking his time with me. He almost handles me like I'm breakable, and, considering the state I'm in, that's probably not far from the truth.

My legs get a little stronger as we stand there, as do my advances. I wrap my arms around his neck and open my mouth to his. He accepts the invitation eagerly. As his hands travel over my skin, I'm expecting some kind of pain from the burns I know I have, but there's nothing but pleasure.

I thank my new ability to heal for that. Maybe there are more perks to being a wolf than I thought. Increased appetite and stamina for sex, being able to heal quickly and survive more than a human can, plus heightened senses. Yeah, I really think I'm going to get used to this.

"Hey, why don't you two save that for later?" Liz yells at us, breaking the moment.

I pull away from my mate with a smile that he echoes. Once I'm not focused intently on HB's body pressed against mine, I realize that I reek. Considering what all I'm covered in, I should've passed out from the smell.

"Maybe we can get back to it after a bath," I say sheepishly.

Red rubs his thumb along my cheekbone and leans in to steal another kiss. "Maybe during," he suggests.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

TBC…

Well, I only expected this to be one more chapter, but this chapter was already sooooo long that I decided to split it up. (For those of you keeping track, this chapter is almost 12 pages longer than any other chapter.)

Anyway, but the rest of it should be well earned sex and a conclusion with Manning. He'll get what's coming to him.


	12. Home

- John

I don't leave Hellboy's lap for the duration of the trip, mostly because the van is completely crammed when it's loaded with two paranormal teams. The only one with his own space is Torque and that's mostly because he got splattered with blood when the wyrm disintegrated. Yvette is sitting in Lazarus's lap, complaining about that fact very loudly. Every few minutes, she lets him know that, if his hands travel anywhere inappropriate, she'll kill him. He behaves himself, but I catch the slightest of blushes on Yvette's face.

Rex was stuck in the front seat with Ralph with the strictest of orders not to become visible under any circumstances. I doubt he actually understood the order, since the first thing he does is change about eight different colors as he tries to crawl through the tiny window that connects the cab to the back. Eon makes a motion at him from her perch on Liz's knees and he immediately calms. She goes right back to chatting happily with Abe in sign language.

On our end of the truck, Red is having a hard time keeping his hands to himself. His lips trail along the back of my neck, making it really, REALLY hard to save anything for later. It feels like I've been away for months and my body responds to his every touch, which is bad, considering we're surrounded by people.

"HB, quit," I hiss, trying to pull his hand out from under my shirt.

His tail curls possessively around my leg and he completely ignores my plea, "Not possible."

"Hellboy," I whine, squirming against his hold. I know I'm not going to last long if this keeps up. My desire for him sadly overwhelms my modesty and I need more self-control than I've ever used before to keep from jumping on him. He's just as bad as I am, except he has no self-control.

He answers me easily, as if I were asking him to go back a channel to a TV show I wanted to watch, "Nope." His lips brush against my ear, sending shockwaves down my body, "I missed you."

"I missed you too, but can you hold off until we get back to base?" I stop his hand on its intended path up my thigh while I whisper at him, trying to ignore his growing hardness.

Dear god, I have a matching erection and we have at least twenty minutes until we get back to the bakery. I'm immensely grateful that Eon is so wrapped up in her conversation with Blue. This is not something I want to explain to a young, inquisitive mind. I pull the corner of HB's slimy jacket over my lap, since I'm still wearing it, and hope for the best.

"Please, just wait," I lean in to whisper against his lips, giving him an open-mouthed kiss. "We have all night."

I offer the last statement suggestively, thinking maybe it'll tide him over until later, but it's a bit of a gamble. Either he'll be sated with the idea for a little while or he'll want to throw me down here and now. I'm relieved (and slightly disappointed) when he grumbles and slides his arms to rest around my waist.

I try to remind myself that it's for the best.

When the sea of hormones finally starts to ebb, I look over at the Society. I don't know how I'm going to leave them tomorrow, especially knowing that I probably won't see them again. I'm almost tempted to say that we should all stay, Abe, Liz, Hellboy, and me, but that's impossible. The Society doesn't have the right facilities to house Abe and Liz shouldn't have to leave America, not to mention that the Bureau is the only home HB has known in the past several decades.

Besides, running from Manning won't fix anything. I need to go back and confront his sorry ass for deporting me. I may not have any authority against him, but we have to find some kind of compromise or things will never settle. I do wonder if he's thought about the fact that the entire Bureau rests on the freaks and pissing us off means that we won't work.

I can almost imagine that headline: 'City overrun by demons because freaks go on strike!' Manning would deserve it, but none of the other innocents caught in the crossfire would. I lean back against HB and brood, but I don't find an answer to the Manning problem before we get back to the bakery.

Ralph pulls into the back door, the only place where they can unload Torque without anyone seeing, and we all pile out like a relieved group of sardines. HB raises his brow at their base of operations, but he doesn't say anything about it. I'm glad he decided to keep any snide remarks to himself. He's not always so thoughtful.

He does, however, prod me a little to get me moving. I was going to ask Abe if he needed to go back to the plane to get anything for his breathing apparatus, but I'm going to assume that he can get that handled on his own. It doesn't take much convincing from Red for me to lead him back to my room.

Oh crap, it's Lazarus's room. I'm going to have to remember to change the sheets tomorrow. I'm really glad he doesn't use his bed all that often.

The minute we're through the door, our clothes hit the floor, and the bed, and the ceiling fan, and I think you get the idea. I press up against Hellboy, winding my arms around his shoulders. Our kisses are more frantic than they were in the cave, heating into a bruising of lips and battle of tongues.

Red braces his hands beneath my hips and I oblige by wrapping my legs around his waist. It does briefly cross my mind that we've yet to do this lying down… and that we're still disgusting.

I break away to pant in his ear, "Shower, now."

HB grunts, but doesn't really move. His flesh hand slides slowly down my back, lingering on my ass. He gives me a firm squeeze that makes me arch into him. I groan embarrassingly loud and go back to kissing him.

NO. We need to take a shower, not screw first, and then shower. We're both gross and I can still feel my skin tingling from being inside that thing's stomach. I unwind my legs and try to get to the floor, but Red tightens his grip.

"Where do you think you're going?" he says, grinning.

"I'm going to take a shower. Whether or not you join me is up to you," I tease and twist out of his grasp. I make a quick stop at my suitcase to grab some lube. "The lube and I are going to the shower. Are you coming?" I wave the packet at him and walk backwards towards the bathroom, giving him the most seductive look I can muster. I don't know how seductive it really is, since I'm grinning like an idiot, but it does its job.

I practically have to run into the bathroom to avoid him catching me again. He snags my arm before I can turn the shower on and pulls me to him with a gravelly, 'Com'ere'. His mouth descends on my neck, licking, sucking, nipping, and traveling steadily southward. I'm pretty sure my eyes roll back in my head from the sensation.

A soft whimper escapes my throat before I can regain my senses, "HB, we're a foot and a half from the shower, please…"

He reaches over with one hand to get the water running, but doesn't stop what he's doing. I buck in his hold as his teeth scrape across my nipple, moaning helplessly. Once the water's hot, Red picks me up and steps into the spray. The shower is tiny, but we don't mind being pressed together. I raise my face to the water and let the grime slide off in rivers. A cold dollop of shampoo drops into my hair. I open my eyes as HB starts massaging it into a lather.

"Are you going to wash my hair for me?"

"Meh, why not? You seemed so upset that you were dirty," he mocks gently.

I roll my eyes, "Just because you can walk around covered in monster guts without a problem doesn't mean everyone can."

He laughs and tilts my head back into the water. As the soap sloughs off, I let my hands play over his slick shoulders. I'm not sure how I managed to hang onto it, but I still have the lube packet. I bite off the corner and give the packet to Red. I don't have to ask, he knows what I want. I press my back against the wall and watch him spread the lube over his flesh fingers.

"How do you want to do this?" he asks.

"I'd rather face you."

"Fair enough," HB murmurs, leaning in to kiss me.

I open my mouth to his questing tongue as his slippery fingers make their way to my entrance. We resume what is quickly becoming my favorite position, with my arms up high on his shoulders and my legs wrapped firmly around his waist. Two fingers push in at once, making a beeline for my prostate. My skull clunks heavily on the tile when I throw my head back, but the slight sting in my crown is overwhelmed by the pleasure Red is wringing out of my lower body.

As wonderful as it is, my body aches for him to be buried inside me. I moan and grind my erection into his, trying to encourage a skip in foreplay. He groans loudly. Don't get me wrong, I like foreplay, I really do. I love getting so worked up that I'm ready to orgasm without being touched, but there's a time and a place for that. That's for a slow, leisurely occasion and I think we are a little too desperate right now.

I'm impressed that he doesn't immediately drop every sense of the word 'control' and slam into me, but that's kind of what I was going for. I grind into him again and lean in to bite his ear, breathing into it, "I can't wait. Now. I want you now."

That gets the effect I wanted. The fingers are gone and are immediately replaced by the head of his cock. He shoves in fast and hard. The pleasure far outweighs the pain. I curl my hands against the tile, gritting my teeth against my howl.

HB's tongue works along my neck, lapping up the beads of water. He makes it to my mouth and pauses to whisper, "I want to hear you." His lips latch onto my jaw as he slams into me.

My scream busts out and echoes in the tiny space. I hope the walls are thick, or soundproof, or both. Knowing the Society's funding, they aren't. I should be quiet, but I can't. Once it's out, I can't stop more from coming. I yowl, and whimper, and moan as Red thrusts into me.

Pleasure sweeps up my body. I roll my hips into Red's, tightening my muscles compulsively around him. We pound on for what seems like days. I whimper, begging for HB to give my cock some attention. I don't wait for him to respond, I arch my back until my penis rubs against his abs. It's almost enough to set me off.

"Oh god, Red!" I gasp when his hand closes around me.

He squeezes and twists his hand, giving me all the stimulation I need. I scream my release, but HB keeps thrusting. I don't really realize that he made it past me tightening around him until I crawl down off my orgasm. It doesn't take long before I'm hard again.

The first few times we did this, I think we were in too much of a hurry to really stretch out to our limit. I'm getting the feeling that we're going to find the far reaches of our stamina tonight. I go off again before he finally succumbs to his orgasm with a roar. I smile as I feel his load shoot deep into me.

Red carefully slides out of me, then pulls me tight against him, settling his face in the crook of my neck. The water is starting to get cold, but we endure it for a few minutes while we catch our breath. HB finally reaches over and cranks it off.

He's so quiet… It bothers me. I slide my fingers through his wet hair, my brow furrowing. "Red?"

"I can't lose you again," he mumbles against my skin.

"What? Red, I-"

He looks up at me, his eyes fierce, "I can't lose you again. In the week we've been dating, you've nearly drowned, been transferred, and gotten eaten alive! Things can't keep going like this."

I'm silent for a minute, dumbfounded. Two out of three of those are just hazards of the job, we don't work in cubicles after all, but it's just because we've had some tough cases this week. Most of our missions aren't nearly so difficult. Unfortunately, I can see where this is going. He doesn't want me in harm's way.

"Red, it's our job… You almost drowned too," the last bit almost sounds whiny, like I'm trying to defend the fact that I'm not the only one that gets hurt. I don't know what to say to fix things. I understand where he's coming from, but I've survived everything that's been thrown at me, and that should speak for itself.

"Maybe you should just…" Red pauses and I realize what he's about to suggest.

"No! I will not be some stay at home housewife! I'm part of the team too and I'm not going to just sit around while you go out and take care of business," I'm trying not to shout, but I'm close to it.

He raises his voice too, "I can't be worrying about you all the time. What happens when there's something we can't handle?"

I duck beneath his arm and grab a towel, rubbing it through my hair a little rougher than necessary, "Then you would need some help and I can't give you that if I'm sitting on my ass at the bureau."

"What if I lose you?"

"You won't." I turn to him, dropping the towel onto my shoulders. "I'm not as fragile as you think I am. At least, not anymore."

HB crosses his arms over his chest, the tip of his tail twitching slightly with his frustration. The twitching slows as we stare each other down. He finally sighs and drops his arms to his sides, "There's no stopping you, is there 'Scout?"

I come back to the edge of the shower to slide my arms around his waist, my anger fading quickly, "I'm stubborn like that."

He cards his hand through my hair. "Will you at least try and be more careful?"

I smirk up at him, "Only if you do too."

"Yeah, alright," he mutters as he presses his mouth to mine.

I bite on his lips, trying to get another rise out of him, and slide my hands down his stomach. The muscles twitch beneath my fingers. I yelp in surprise when Red shoulders me like a game animal and carries me into the bedroom. He drops me on the bed, not so much roughly, but abruptly. I bounce a little, grabbing the headboard to still the movement.

"More sex?" I ask with a smile, teasing him.

He grunts in response and crawls over me. His lips trail up my body. I'm only slightly tired from our session in the shower, so I don't have any complaints. Actually, I doubt that I'd complain about it even if I was exhausted. I don't think I'll ever get tired of this.

It's very, VERY late before we get to sleep and I couldn't honestly tell you how many times we did it. As much as I appreciated having his jacket as a 'replacement' for his smell, it's so much better having the real thing. Wrapped in his arms, I sleep more heavily than I have in days. I don't dream at all.

- HB

I don't know how, or why, but I wake up before 'Scout. I think that means that the world is upside down or something, but it feels just fine to me. He's curled up against my side with his arm flung across my chest, looking way cuter than any one person should be allowed to.

I trail my fingers down his back and barely get a twitch out of him. He must be pretty bushed after last night. I really hope we have more sessions like that, because hot damn that was amazing. We went at it so long that I think I have friction-burn on my cock. I would say that the kid kept up okay, but his stamina was more than okay. He's got to be the most sex-hungry monster I have ever met. Works for me.

John shifts closer to me with a groan and I lift my arm so he can settle against my side. I wrap my arm around him once he's comfortable.

I don't know why I start thinking about the fight we had last night, but it plays through my head like a bad movie. He said it himself, he's pretty damn stubborn. At least as a werewolf, he'll be less likely to die when something smashes him. But, even with his ability to heal, it still means he's getting hurt.

Crap… I can't keep him at home, but I can't spend every moment in a fight watching his back. The easy solution to this would be to let him handle himself. He is right, he's not a breakable as he used to be… I think it's going to take a while before I get used to that idea.

I found out WAY after the fact that Boyscout was the one to kill the siren, protecting me no less, so I guess he'll be alright. I'll just have to look after him when I can and let him fight for himself the rest of the time. I came to accept that fact with Liz (of course, she wouldn't let me guard her ass, except when she really needed me), so why not John?

I feel eyes… I glance around the room to figure out the source and spot the little girl in the doorway. How long has she been standing there? It's kind of creepy, like those kids off the Shining. Although, I guess those were ghosts, not kids.

"What? Go play with your dolls or something," I grump at her, getting a scowl in return.

She signs at me. Has she not realized that it's totally wasted on me? I have no idea what the fuck she's trying to say. I interrupt.

"Look, Blue may follow you, but I don't get it. You've got to talk to me some other way."

She sighs and points at 'Scout. I look down at him. He's still sleeping like a rock, even through our conversation.

"You want John?" I clarify and Eon nods. I was going to let him sleep a little longer, but I guess it's late enough. "Babe, it's time to get up," I say, running my hand over his side.

He groans and slaps at my hand, burying his face deeper in the blankets. This could be quite a fight. I dig my fingers into his side lightly, hoping that maybe he's ticklish. I get nothing but a grumbled, "Quit it." Man, when 'Scout wants to sleep, he gets a little grumpy.

"No luck kid, he's not getting up," I tell her.

Eon comes over, licks her finger, and sticks it in 'Scout's ear. A Wet Willy, not pleasant. Myers bolts sideways and runs into me. That couldn't have been pleasant either. He starts rubbing his head, muttering, "You're like running into a brick wall."

"Yeah well," I answer, trying not to laugh. 'Scout's hair is going about eighteen different directions on one side and completely plastered flat on the other. It's a cute look.

'Scout glares at me and tries to clean the spit out of his ear, "Why'd you do that?"

Wait just a freaking minute, when did this become my fault? "I didn't do anything, it was her," I defend, pointing at the grinning little brat.

John looks over at her and her smile fades instantly, replaced with a furrowed brow as she shakes her head. He doesn't pay much attention to her denial, since he jumps back and tries to cover himself more thoroughly, "Eon, what are you doing in here?" Not surprisingly, a blush spreads over his face.

She makes a few motions with her hands.

John answers her easily, so I'm going to assume that he learned sign language since I last saw him. "It's noon?" She points at the clock and 'Scout leans over to see it. "When did it get so late?" he mutters.

Whatever Eon signs at him next makes them both depressed. She starts pouting and he frowns deeply. This is kind of like watching a soap opera with the sound turned off. I have no idea what's going on.

When John answers her, he sounds choked up, "Alright, well you go start working on lunch and we'll be there in a few. I'll play with you after we eat."

My stomach growls at the mentioning of food. I almost feel like I'm interrupting their moment, but I'm starving. Eon shuffles away, presumably to do what John asked. I'm about to pester him for a translation of their conversation when his stomach grumbles too.

'Scout doubles over in bed, holding his middle. He doesn't give it any attention besides that. "That was so embarrassing. I really hope she doesn't ask Yvette why we were sharing a bed…Was she in here when you woke up?"

"Hell if I know, I was watching you sleep."

'Scout raises an eyebrow and peers up at me, "That's mildly creepy."

I shrug.

John groans, shoving the sheets off his legs. He rolls out of bed and leans over to start digging through his suitcase for fresh clothes. I'll have to search the room for the pants I wore last night, since I forgot my bag on the plane, but there's no way I'm getting up to look for anything when I have such a perfect view of his tight little ass. He shifts from one foot to the other while rummaging through his suitcase and I'm very tempted to take advantage of his position.

"Eon said that our plane is supposed to leave in a couple of hours," John states, clearly oblivious of my lusty stare.

I try and roll with his conversation, but I am way too distracted, "Is that why you two got depressed all of a sudden?"

"She's kind of become the little sister I never had; I don't want to say goodbye knowing that I probably won't see her again."

Liz would be scolding me for this, I can almost hear her in my head, 'Red, pay attention, this is important to John.' God, she's not even here and I feel guilty. I drag my eyes up his body, giving listening my best shot. I got it so far: the little kid is cute (even if she did let me take the heat for HER Wet Willy), John thinks of her like a sister, and they don't want to be separated. What I want to know is how this attachment got so strong in less than a week. I think he'd adopt her if we could.

That gave me a funny mental image… we'd be the weirdest fucking family ever. Although, the idea of John in an apron has its own appeals.

"I bet we can get them to America like they got us here, with the whole 'request for help' bit. Except we aren't waking up any big-ass medieval wyrms for that," I suggest in hopes of lightening his mood.

"Yeah, that probably wasn't the best of plans," he says offhandedly as he frowns at the wrinkles in the pair of slacks he's holding up. "I need an iron."

That takes me back to the 'John in an apron' idea. My mind immediately suggests that he should be naked beneath it. You would think I'd gotten enough nookie last night, but I don't think a guy can ever get enough, unless he's just too tired.

"Why don't you just wear some jeans? That's what you've been in lately," much to my pleasure. I'm really liking the casual John in low slung jeans, so I wouldn't be upset if I never saw him in a suit again.

"It's not very professional."

"Our job ain't exactly a gig in Washington, there's nobody you're going to see that you need to impress. I promise you, the monsters don't give a shit what you're in," I make an excellent point, or at least one good enough to convince Myers. He drops the slacks back in the bag.

I slide to the edge of the bed and it groans under my weight. I hope it doesn't bust. There haven't been too many beds big enough or sturdy enough to hold me once I got past the age of twelve. The converted truck was one of many solutions over the years. I just doubt that this place has the money to replace the bed if it does go out. But, it did survive sex, so I bet it'll be okay.

Speaking of sex, shouldn't Myers be the least bit sore? From the way he's moving around, you'd think nothing happened last night, not even the wyrm battle. Hell, I'm sore from that fight. Lucky bastard. Werewolves really can bounce back from just about anything. If there are too many more perks, I might have to figure out how to become one myself.

"You hurt at all?"

'Scout looks over his shoulder at me. He opens his mouth, his brow all scrunched up, and pauses. He's got to be putting two and two together and getting the same question as me. "No, but I really should, shouldn't I?"

"Yeah. I don't think it's fair that we screw all night and you don't have any consequences."

A beautiful smile creeps onto his face, "It's like being the frat boy that wakes up after the wild party without a hangover. I don't know what to tell you, except that maybe you're starting to feel your age. You are pretty ancient."

"Why you little," I growl, snagging him before he can get away. He falls into my lap, laughing and grinning from ear to ear. God, it's good to have him back. I may not be able to keep him out of the fights, but there's no way I'm going to let anything take him from me again, not Heaven, Hell, or Manning. This little wolf is mine.

I manage to talk 'Scout into one more quickie before we get showered and dressed. I also endure a massive amount of teasing for forgetting my clothes on the plane, mostly because I have to clean up my pants and wear them wet (the wyrm goo on them was starting to reek and I was not going to walk around smelling like the eggs Blue eats).

"I'm gone a week and you don't have any clothes to wear, why does it not surprise me?"

"It's not like I'm out of clean clothes, I just forgot them."

"Because who normally makes sure your suitcase is where it's supposed to be?"

I give him the hairy eyeball as we head to the kitchen, "It's not your job anymore. Ellis took over."

"And where is Ellis?"

"On the plane. He decided to let us handle it after what happened in Venice," I sigh. In hindsight, I probably should've let him know that we weren't coming back last night. He's either wondering where the hell we got off to, or playing on that PDA of his. He is pretty laid back, so I doubt he's pacing the cargo bay.

"Don't let Manning know that Ellis didn't come with you. He'll fire him," John says, sounding a bit downtrodden.

I almost tell him not to worry about Manning, but I think I'd rather it be a surprise. Although, I've only met with the Secretary of Defense, he hasn't actually done anything about the jackass yet. It would probably be best if I don't get John's hopes up. Knowing the way the world works, it's more than possible that he'll just give Manning a slap on the wrist and tell him to try harder to get along with us.

Boyscout pushes open the door to the kitchen and the smells make my hunger eight times worse. I'm about ready to eat the contents of a farm (the cows, the chickens, and maybe even a horse). The Society guys are settled around the table with Liz. Abe's over by the counter, considering a non-spoiled egg. He's probably trying to figure out if it'll taste as good as one that's turned green.

The little girl jumps up from the table and immediately latches onto Boyscout. He scoops her up, "Hey you." She signs at John and he nods, "After I eat. I'm starving."

He takes the seat she just left, holding her in his lap. After a second, 'Scout glances around the table and turns to look at me questioningly. He must've just realized what I spotted when I came in: there aren't any chairs left.

I come over and snag one of the gigantic sub sandwiches from the middle of the table, taking a second to kiss the back of 'Scout's neck, "Spend some time with them, its fine."

His brow furrows, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," I take my sandwich and lean on the counter next to Blue.

Watching Boyscout with the Society, I realize that he fits in with them perfectly. He's been here a week and he's already laughing with them, sharing jokes, opening up in ways that he doesn't normally do until he's known someone for longer. It took almost two months before I even saw him in casual clothes.

"You shouldn't feel bad for taking him from this," Blue comments, peeling what I now know is a boiled egg.

"He's happy here. They're like his family."

"So are we."

Abe's got a good point. John was ours' first, and it's not like he's going to give us up for them, but he's still very much at home here. I hope we can work something out so he can see them again.

"And, technically, you are his family. Not biologically, but through a form of marriage," Abe adds, eyeing the egg like it might bite back.

"If normal marriage started at sex, there'd be a lot of unhappy people in the world," I snort.

He chuckles in response, "Or the divorce rate would be astronomically higher."

I grin at the face Blue makes when he finally tastes the egg, "Don't like it?"

"It's a waste of what could have been a delicacy."

Why did the sandwich in my hand just get lighter? I look over to find Torque munching on the back half of my sub. Nobody touches my food… Nobody. Except 'Scout, but only if he's bringing it to me or if I've invited him to share, but those are the ONLY exceptions. Rhino-men don't fall anywhere near either category.

"I was eating that!"

He chews slowly, staring at me, "No, you were talking."

I slam down the tiny stub of sandwich that's still in my hand and shove a stone finger into his face, "Nobody takes my food!"

"What are you going to do about it?" he makes the challenge casually, calmly.

It really pisses me off. I don't care that I'm a lot louder than he is when I start yelling. We've got most of the attention in the room, but even John's disapproving frown doesn't stop me, "You sorry sack'a-"

The Russian's voice cuts into our argument like one of Crispy's swords, "You will NOT fight in my kitchen. You want to fight, you go outside."

Torque's ears droop like a scolded dog. I know they're all scared of this broad, but how tough could she really be? Torque's like a foot and a half taller than me, so why doesn't he just stand up to her?

"Are you on constant PMS?" I snap. I'm going to have to blame that statement on the fact that I'm hungry and pissed, otherwise, I might have thought twice before I said it. That's not something I'd ever say to Liz, and I know her limits of her rage.

Right on cue, Liz gripes at me, "HB, don't you dare!"

Crispy (yes, I know his name is Lazarus, but I'm going to stick with Crispy) and John both make the 'bad idea, you are going to die' motion with their hands. It's kind of too late though, it's already out.

Yvette moves her cigarette from one side of her mouth to the other, her eyes narrowing dangerously. I don't know what the hell she thinks she can do to me. In my peripheral vision, I see Blue sliding out of the line of fire. That can't be good. Does he know something I don't?

She gets up and crosses the room in quick strides, I can't stop my smirk. She acts like she can hurt me. I really don't expect her to grab one of my sideburns and drag me down to her level.

"Ow," I growl at her.

"If I was bleeding, you would be dead, demon. I'm radioactive," she growls back, giving my hair a good tug.

I'm about to say something smart-ass but the whole world gets a little fuzzy. I shake free of her hold and lean back on the counter, too dizzy to do much else. What did she… Yvette smirks at me as some energy dissipates around her hand. As soon as it's gone, I feel normal.

Okay… maybe everybody's scared of her for a good reason. I don't even know what the hell she just did, but I know she could've done a lot more than that. She's got some major talent, and I can admire her for that. It's not like I'm scared of her, 'cause I'm not, but she definitely earned a little respect.

What this sums up to: Don't make jokes about her period. I got it, lesson learned. 'Scout winces at my predicament. When I'm feeling more steady, I come over to the table.

"You okay?" he asks, touching my arm. "She pulls the energy out of things. People usually don't fair so well," 'Scout explains as if he knew what I was thinking.

"Didn't do too much to me, so I guess I'm more badass than you are," Liz throws at me.

I glare at her, "Is this 'pick on Red day', cause I missed that memo."

"You generate energy, that's a different matter," Yvette jumps into the conversation, directing her words at Liz. They start chatting, leaving John and I (and Eon, but she's eating) to ourselves.

'Scout goes back to my comment, "I'm not picking on you."

"You were earlier," I grump.

When I lean down to rifle through the food left on the table, he kisses me and gives me a soft smile, "But you're okay?"

"I'm fine," I answer, grabbing one of the remaining sandwiches. "I'm still starving though." I shoot a glare at Torque when I say it.

He sticks out his long tongue at me. Mature…

Eon motions to John, and he translates, "She says, 'To be fair, you were eating Torque's sub'."

"I was not, he ate mine."

John rolls his eyes, "Did it have any meat on it?"

I think back to the single bite I managed to get. There were way too many veggies on it for my liking. If there was any meat on it, I didn't taste it, "I don't think so."

"Then it was Torque's. He's a vegetarian."

A vegetarian? I turn to him, "How the hell do you stay so big eating nothing but green stuff?"

"I must be doing something you're not."

I catch Boyscout trying real hard not to laugh at that. I'm being ganged up on, but I'm not really pissed, more interested in staying on top of these jokers. If I let them walk all over me, it'll just keep getting worse.

"Look, you're already on my shit list and it's very short, so it won't be long before I come for you. Don't push it."

I guard my next sandwich, making sure Torque keeps his distance. I will kick his ass if I have to.

John disappears with Eon until it's nearly time for us to leave, showing up to pack his things. He keeps her on his hip while he shoves everything into his bag, her hanging on like a koala with a puppy-dog pout.

I'm getting the feeling that she's going to miss him the most, and likewise for him. This kid's left an impression on John, a deep one. He doesn't let go of her on the ride back to the airstrip (which is kind of weird, because he's sitting in my lap and she's sitting in his), or when we start saying our goodbyes. I think I might have to pry them apart with a crowbar, or he'll bring her on the plane.

'Scout goes from one member of the Society to the next, dishing out hugs and well wishes. Torque's lip starts trembling when John tells him, "Be good. Don't tease Eon too much."

The rhino-man grabs him up into a bear hug that has to hurt, but he's wary not to crush Eon in the process. John laughs, letting him squeeze him.

"Alright, alright…" 'Scout soothes him, "Come on Torque, put me down."

He finally does, still sniffling. John pats his shoulder and moves on to Yvette. They don't embrace; it's more formal than that. Yvette tosses her cigarette stub on the ground and nods to him, "You take care of yourself, wolf boy." John nods back, smiling at her. He leans forward to say something in a low voice, something that makes her chuckle.

"We'll see," she responds with a tiny grin, shooting a glance at Crispy.

John tries to shake Crispy's hand, but he pulls him into a hug. I almost tell Lazarus to keep his hands off, but I know that there's nothing like that in his hold. He's just saying goodbye. He releases 'Scout with a, "I hope we see you soon." As John turns away, Lazarus says one more thing, "And don't forget about the check you promised me."

John laughs, "I won't." He furrows his brow, looking around the people near him. "Where's Dr. Andrews? I thought he would come by to see us off."

"He left early this morning, said to tell you goodbye," Lazarus says.

John frowns, not really pleased with the answer, but he lets it go. Lastly, 'Scout sets Eon on her feet and crouches in front of her. She's already getting teary-eyed. When I hear Boyscout's voice, I realize he must be too, "I have to go now."

To my right, I hear Liz sigh a sad little 'oh' at the scene. I stay out of it for now. I know this isn't going to be easy for him, but he'll bounce back from it.

Eon latches onto him, shaking her head frantically. John mutters, "I'm going to miss you so much," and clutches her tightly. They stay that way for what seems like an hour, just holding onto one another and her sobbing up a storm. John pets her back in slow circles, trying to comfort her. She doesn't release her hold to say anything to him, probably afraid that someone will take her away from him if she lets go.

Poor kid… both of 'em. I really should stop calling John a kid. He's proved in almost every way that he's more mature than I am. ('Course, it could be argued that most people are more mature than I am, but I won't go there.)

I finally look over at Crispy and motion at the pair with my head, "If you grab yours, I'll grab mine, otherwise I don't think they'll ever let go."

He nods, saying sweet things to the little girl as he tries to pull her off of John. I circle my arm around 'Scout's waist and pick him up, "Come on Myers. Time to go home."

John squirms in my hold, reaching out for her, "No, wait. Let me just hold her a minute longer."

"If I let you do that, we'll end up taking her back with us," I chide him quietly.

"But I'm not ready to go. Please, just put me down! She needs me."

"She's got them 'Scout," it may be a harsh reality, but Myers knows it's true. I didn't really have to say it.

When I look back, the kid's got her mouth open, but no sound's coming out. It looks like she's trying to say John's name, tears coming down her face in rivers. That's gotta' be the most heart-wrenching scene I've ever witnessed, and I don't even like kids. Yvette takes her from Lazarus, holding her tight and cooing to her. I turn and head onto the plane.

John rubs his face against my shoulder. I can feel something wet creeping down my skin, just little drops. He's crying too. Liz tells me to comfort him, that 'I'm his mate and I should do something,' but there's nothing I can say that could make this any better. We've gone over the whole I suck at the touchy-feely stuff. Besides, he's got to be allowed to be upset.

I flop down onto one of the chairs, petting 'Scout's hair and letting him cry. He eventually slows into hiccups and then gets quiet. Except, he doesn't move after he quiets down. Is he sleeping?

"He's exhausted, both mentally and physically."

I look up at Blue with a raised brow, giving him the cue to go on.

"John has not gotten a full night of sleep since he left our possession. Your jacket did not work as well as I hoped it would; it was not a substantial substitute for your presence," Blue explains easily, getting settled with his book.

I shift 'Scout a little and his head rolls onto the crook of my arm. He doesn't even twitch. No wonder he slept half the day away, if he only got a couple hours the past few nights.

Abe throws in one last tidbit before he starts reading, "Actually, the last night he was here alone, he only slept an hour total."

Ellis appears out of the front of the plane, his phone in hand, "Hey, how'd it go?"

He wasn't worried, or stressed, or wondering where the hell we'd gotten off to. I'm not all that surprised. If he knew us better, he should've been doing all three.

Liz kicks off her boots and stashes her coat beneath the seat, "Well, John got eaten, one of the Society's team members got burned to a crisp, HB nearly passed out because-"

"You could leave that part out, Liz," I growl.

She shoots me an evil grin and continues, "But, all in all, it went pretty well."

Ellis blinks for a second or two, glances down at 'Scout, back at Liz, then smiles, "Okay then. This is an important call, so I'll talk to all of you in a minute." He disappears into the kitchenette near the cockpit.

Liz flings her legs over the armrest of her chair and slides down into the seat, "Well, I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm going to take John's example and get some shut eye."

I'm thinking that it's not a bad idea, except I'm still kinda' hungry. It can wait. I wrap my arm a little more snugly around 'Scout and let him sleep. I eventually drift off myself.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It only takes ten minutes on the ground before we hear from Manning. We'd barely even loaded up in the truck when the Ellis comes over the speaker, "Manning's on the line. He says that we need to meet with him as soon as we get back to HQ. We apparently need to be debriefed."

I can't help but smile when I hit the button to answer, "Yeah, tell him we'll be there… And give Allen a call, would ya'?"

"Already have."

The speaker shuts off smoothly. I bet somebody fixed it since John got infected; I did bust it up pretty good. They might have had to replace it completely.

'Scout perks up immediately. He's been pretty bright-eyed and bushy-tailed since he got his ridiculously long nap on the plane, "Who's Allen?"

I shoot a warning look at both Liz and Abe before they can ruin the surprise. Liz gets the hint easily, "He's just a new guy."

Blue doesn't say anything, but I know he despises lying. I don't think I've ever known of a situation where he was willing to tell a fib, even if it would stop a rampaging she-demon from kicking my ass around. I think about the memory hard, making sure Abe gets it. He sighs and shakes his head.

"That could hardly have been considered my fault," he defends. "You were the one that-"

"Stay outta' my head, Blue," I grump as I see John's curiosity mounting. He doesn't need to know about all of our past cases, especially the embarrassing ones. I didn't want Blue to talk about it; I just wanted him to follow the fact that telling a fib can sometimes be beneficial.

"I'm doubtful of that." When I glare at him, he adds, "But I won't say anything."

"What? What's going on?" John asks.

Liz slides over next to 'Scout, rolling her eyes at us, "Nothing John, they're just having a lovers spat."

"Like I would-" I start to yell at her, but she cuts me off.

"Ignore them. So when are we going to go have another coffee run?"

'Scout snickers and they start making plans. I see the slightest of scowls move across his face when Liz mentions going to the place in New York that they went to before. (She just mentions the address, but I remember where it was. The rooftops over there aren't very evenly spaced.) That scowl's got to mean that he's thinking about the restrictions Manning's got on his 'outdoor privileges'.

They'll be gone soon enough, I hope. If the Secretary doesn't come through for us, I'll… I don't know what I'll do, but it won't be pleasant.

The truck comes to a stop and we pile out into the garage. Ellis's phone goes off and he motions for us to go on without him. I half listen to his conversation as he saunters off, "Who won't let you in?" He pauses, "Really, okay. I'll see what I can do."

It's probably best if he doesn't come with us; he's got a long list of reasons Manning could use to fire him. Not that he knows about any of them, I think. Manning will be waiting in the conference room. As we head that direction, I spot 'Scout wringing his hands. I reach over and snag them so he'll quit.

"It's okay," I tell him.

He takes a step to the side and leans on me while we walk. I wrap my arm around him. His muscles are strung pretty tight; I can feel his tension under my hand. He's more nervous than I thought.

"What if he…" John starts, not finding the words to finish.

"I won't let him," I say firmly and stick a cigar in my mouth. "He's got to be an idiot to pull that stunt twice. Besides, you're a wolf 'Scout, are you going to let him rule your life?"

His expression clears up slowly and he actually smiles, "You're right."

"Damn right I'm right," I pull my arm away to light the cigar, taking a long drag.

He rolls his eyes at my sarcasm, or the repetitiveness of that sentence. Either way, at least he's not as freaked out. Manning's like a wild animal; he can smell fear and will play off of it. Which is why he yells at people all the time, he wants us to be scared so that he can feel like he's in control. Not that any of us except Myers is scared of him. Hopefully we can break him of that.

Liz looks back at us from her position at the head of the pack, "John, you're our family. If Manning thinks he's going to separate you from us again, he's got another thing coming."

"Agreed," Blue adds.

John's smile grows, as does his confidence, but he still lets the rest of us enter the conference room first. I think my grin should have given it away that we'd done something, but Manning is starting his usually routine before he spots John. His mouth falls open and his face gets red instantly, a vein jumping off his forehead.

"What the hell are you doing back here?"

I was kind of expecting some mumbled response from Boyscout, but he's bold when he answers, "I'm an agent here, remember?" He's got a no nonsense, 'don't fuck with me' tone of voice.

Way to go, kid.

Manning comes around the table, looking about ready to tear John's face off. I puff up a little and put my hand on the Samaritan. Liz's fingers start to glow. Manning gets the picture and stops his approach just short of arm's reach.

"You aren't staying. I will not deal with you in my bureau, that's why you were transferred," he threatens, shaking a finger at 'Scout. "You're getting on the first plane out of here."

Boyscout curls his lip, "I'm not going anywhere. This is my home."

"This is a branch of the FBI, not a dog daycare! You've already shown that you can't be professional, and I will not permit your recent behavior to-"

"You are so full of shit, Manning! You know 'Scout's one of the best agents you've got. You're just afraid of what he's become," I shout at him. I was going to let John stand up to him, but he's just pushing my buttons.

Where the hell is our back-up? I thought the Secretary of Defense was going to come kick Manning's ass. I hope he's not way the hell over in Washington, 'cause I might have to kick Manning's ass myself if he takes too long to get over here. I might do it anyway.

"Look, I'm willing to make a deal with you. We don't have to be unreasonable about all this," 'Scout tries to be the nice one in this situation. I doubt it'll help. Manning passed the 'reasonable' stage about the time he used tranquilizers on me.

"I don't make deals with freaks! You're a menace and I want you gone."

'Scout's eyes flare bright yellow and his hands curl into tight fists. Fear flashes across Manning's face, he drops back a step. I think John really might haul off and deck him, but he keeps his cool, "When did I make you think I was a threat? What did I do?"

"You've got an attitude like him," he motions at me, "You're both unpredictable."

"They wouldn't act out against you if you weren't such an asshole all the time," Liz says bluntly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Yeah, not to mention that 'Scout's only got a fraction of my attitude."

I thought Blue would stay silent through this entire argument, but he cuts in with his usual information tidbit, "And that was only because they've mated. Otherwise, John wouldn't have any kind of attitude."

'Scout opens his mouth like he might argue that fact, then shakes his head and lets it go. He knows full well that Blue is right, he couldn't argue his way out of a paper bag before we slept together. He's gotten a bit more confrontational since then, what with him nearly hitting Manning on multiple occasions, but he's definitely not as bad as me.

Manning snaps, a few more veins coming up on his face, "I'm in charge here! What I say goes, so shut up all of you! He's getting on a plane tomorrow!" Now would be a great time for him to die from a heart attack, because if I get my hands on him, his death will be a lot slower.

I move between 'Scout and Manning, ready to beat the hell out of Manning if he tries anything. Before I can start yelling at him, Liz makes a threat that brings him down to size.

"If John goes, we all go."

The blood rushes out of Manning's face when her words hit home. It's probably never crossed his mind that we could do that. If we all walk out, his bureau will be completely useless. It doesn't matter that the only ones who could have a normal life are John and Liz, because the threat is still real.

My tail twists contently at his lack of a response. Chew on that you bastard.

John tilts his head to the side and glances towards the door. A couple seconds after his ears catch it, I hear two voices getting closer.

"I'll have you know that you pulled me off the seventh hole of my golf game with the president."

"I'm sorry sir, but it has to be now," that's definitely Ellis, so he's got the Secretary with him.

"They sound like they're about to kill each other in there."

"They probably are."

Ellis and the Secretary come around the corner and into the conference room, Ellis grinning like the cat that ate the canary. He doesn't look like he's getting a smidge of contentment out of this, again with the sarcasm. Funny that it only took a week working with us for him to take our side.

Just the look on Manning's face when he sees the Secretary of Defense is well worth all the shit we've had to endure. That and 'Scout's look of shock. There was no way he could have seen this coming.

John tugs on my sleeve, "Is that the…"

"Yeah 'Scout, that's him."

I'm glad Ellis pulled him out of his golf game, because Allen is a little more ticked at Manning than he might have been on a regular day. Actually, I don't know him too well, so maybe he would've been this pissed anyway. He starts chewing up Manning's ass immediately. I sit back and enjoy the show, grinning from ear to ear.

"Tom, it has come to my attention that your work in the BPRD has tread on a lot of toes and made a lot of people angry. These…" Allen falters, motioning at us, but failing to find a word to describe us. He settles on, "Guys and gals are our first and only line of defense against the supernatural and I have heard, first person, that several of them want to quit, citing your behavior as the reason."

Manning tries desperately to redeem himself, to prove he'd done some good, "But I brought this bureau up from nothing. I made it what it is today! You have no idea how hard it is to keep these freaks in line."

"You lying son of a bitch! My father made this bureau what it is. You just stole the credit!" the only thing keeping me from smashing him flat is John's hand on my arm.

Allen doesn't let it slide, "You may have improved something in the bureau, but the absurdly long list of grievances that have been filed against you far outweigh anything positive. You've broken a number of policies, mostly concerning an agent named John."

The Secretary scans us, his eyes settling on 'Scout. John nods to him, still completely dumbfounded by what's going on, "That's me."

"I assumed as much."

Manning turns his rage onto John, "You did this? Why you little-"

"No, I did," Ellis shouts from the door. "You could fire me, but I think you're about to lose your authority."

The wolf guy- Wait, what the hell is he doing here? I thought he was in England! I'm sure we'll find out soon enough. Anyway, he slips around Ellis and comes up next to John, completely ignoring the Secretary chewing our director a new one.

"How are you feeling John? Better I hope."

'Scout looks at him with wide eyes, probably on data overload, "What are you doing here?"

Dr. Andrews barrels through his question, checking 'Scout's eyes and ears, "You haven't been having any problems since you've been reacquainted with your mate, have you?"

John turns from the Doc to the argument (which is now Manning ordered into silence while Allen lists the grievances against him) then back to the Doc, "Can this wait ten minutes?"

I lean over, "We've been dying to see this bastard get what he deserves."

Dr. Andrews nods with a drawn out, 'oh'. "Very well then." He sits at the conference table to wait. 'Scout'll answer a whole list of question for him a minute, but this is just too good to not watch.

The Secretary is starting to draw to a close, concluding with how disappointed he is with Manning's work.

"How did you get him to come here?" Myers asks in a whisper.

"I didn't, Ellis went to him about everything that's been going on and got him to interview us about it."

Allen finally gets to the REALLY good stuff, "For this kind of behavior, I have no option but to discharge you from the bureau-"

Manning cuts into his final statement, in a desperate attempt to save his job, "Who else could you possibly find to keep this place running? There's no one with my kind of experience available! These freaks walk all over someone new and you'll just end up with rampant chaos in this facility!"

I know we call ourselves freaks, but it's starting to really piss me off coming from him. When he says it, it's an insult.

He's got a point though (as much as I despise the fact that Manning could be right about anything) who is Allen going to bring in to run this place? I really hope it's not some tough-as-nails drill sergeant kind of guy, 'cause there no way we'll get along with him. He'd better not be worse than Manning, but I don't think too many people could be worse than Manning. As long as we're treated like people instead of attack dogs, I think anyone else would be an improvement.

"I've already lined up your replacement, brought him out of retirement for this. He's got twice the experience you do with supernatural phenomena and left the bureau to study…" Allen glances over at Dr. Andrews, "What was it Sean, werewolves?"

"It was, Allen. The finest breeds are found in Europe, so I couldn't continue my work here," the Doc comments from his place at the table. "But I'm honored to join this team."

Dr. Wolf Guy is Manning's replacement? What? I didn't even know he worked for the bureau! Everyone else has the same shocked look as me, so I guess I didn't miss a crucial piece of information or anything. Except Abe, there's no questioning that he knew about this.

John is the first to break out of the stupefied trance that seems to have taken over the room, "You didn't tell me that you used to work for the FBI."

"Well, I retired nearly a decade ago from the western division of this bureau. You'll have to forgive me, but it really didn't cross my mind," the Doc answers easily, with a smile. "But, back to my question earlier, are you feeling better?"

'Scout nods, "Things are getting better all the time."

"There's no way you'll be able to handle this," Manning snarls, "You'll be gone in a week, tops."

Allen shoots a very nasty 'shut the fuck up' look at Manning, "Get your things packed and get out of here. The bureau will send you the formal papers through the mail."

He heads for the door, grumbling, cursing, and giving everyone one last glare. I let him get to the hall before I yell, "Hey Manning."

He turns as I come out of the conference room after him ('Scout on my heels like he could stop me). "What?" Manning snaps.

I smash my left fist across his jaw, not hard enough to break any bones, but enough to make me feel better. It's for the shit he's put me and 'Scout through. That, and I've really, REALLY wanted to do that for years. I stand over him, topping it off with a simple, "Bye."

He lands on one knee and a hand, rubbing his jaw. After a second, he makes a face and pulls out a tooth I jarred loose. He gets to his feet, furious, "Why you dirty son of-"

Manning doesn't get any farther into that sentence, 'Scout punches him on the other side of his face. The hit doesn't knock him to the floor, but he'll be nursing a split lip for the next couple of days. I stare at 'Scout, wondering where the hell that came from.

"Don't talk to my mate like that," John orders firmly, adding once he has Manning's undivided attention, "And I'm not a dog, I'm a wolf."

"Way to go, John," Ellis crows from the door, laughing.

Manning doesn't have anything to say. He's probably in too much shock that John would actually hit him to think up a comeback. When he turns away from us and walks down the hall, 'Scout rubs his hand.

"Ow," he mutters, a blush forming on his face.

I take his sore hand and bring it to my lips. His blush gets ten times worse. "I can't believe you actually hit him."

John winces when I rub my thumb over his knuckles, "I can't either."

"But he did deserve it."

I get an eye roll for that. John raises an eyebrow and presses up against me, winding his arms around my neck, "You know, not everything can be solved with violence."

"Yeah, but it's always worked well for me," I murmur as I lean down to kiss him.

We're pretty deep in a game of tonsil hockey when somebody clears their throat. I start off with a glare for the interruption before I realize that it was the Secretary trying to get our attention. 'Scout disentangles himself from me so he can salute. I doubt the kid could get any more embarrassed without having a nervous breakdown of some kind. His face is about my shade of red.

The Secretary looks between us slowly and I realize that he could have a problem with our relationship. It's none of his fucking business, but what if he decides to act on it? There's no way I'm letting anyone else stand between us. I brace myself for some kind of nasty reaction, my hand resting on the small of 'Scout's back.

"I suppose this explains your anger with the situation," Allen says simply, folding his hands behind his back. "Try not to hit any directors in the future, ex or otherwise."

Well, at least he didn't say anything about me and 'Scout being together, but I don't know if I can make that kind of promise. What if another director makes me mad, or I see Manning again? I just might need to punch somebody's lights out.

"That shouldn't be a problem," Myers says obediently, giving my ribs a nudge with I don't follow his example.

I sigh and jump on the bandwagon, "Yeah, okay."

"Good. Well, I need to get back, but you let me know if you need anything. I'll be looking in on this bureau from time to time to see how things are going."

Ellis perks up just before the Secretary leaves, "Oh, and tell the president that we're sorry we interrupted his game of golf."

Allen dismisses him with a wave and a chuckle, "He's probably thanking you. He doesn't actually like golf, thinks it's boring as hell." He disappears down the same hall that Manning went down, hopefully to make sure he's packing up his office. Either that or he doesn't know how to get out of here. If it's the latter, we'll see him in a few minutes, 'cause the lift is the other direction.

'Scout smiles at Ellis when it's all said and done, "Thanks, for everything. You can stay."

I laugh at his turn of phrase, mostly 'cause it was exactly what I said to him and that Ellis still doesn't get what we mean by it. He frowns and tilts his head, the question clear as day on his face.

I cut him a break, "We like you, so we want you to stick around."

The realization finally dawns on him (he's really not the brightest crayon in the box, but at least he's friendly), "Oh, why didn't you just say so?"

'Scout and I laugh.

God, it's good for everything to be back to normal.

- John

It's been almost two weeks since Manning got fired and Dr. Andrews is settling in here quite nicely. He and Abe have long conversations about literature and poetry on a very regular basis, which I know Abe is thrilled about. He's always looking for someone to have meaningful conversations with.

Andrews's books on lycanthropy arrived from England several days ago, along with a folded up drawing from Eon. The picture depicted everyone from the BPRD and the Society (most of us were stick-figures save Red and Torque, who were bulked out blocks of color) standing together on what I think might be the dead wyrm. It was cute, in a slightly morbid way. I put it up on the wall to remind me of her.

One of the other things that has changed is me moving into HB's room. It's kind of weird to share a space with someone, since I've lived alone since I moved out of my uncle's house after high school. As weird as it is, it's also very nice. I'm enjoying waking up with Red's arms wrapped around me instead of an empty bed.

We've had a few tiny arguments about the way the space should be kept, since I'm a neat freak and he doesn't really care what state his room is in. We eventually agreed that I would be allowed to keep things cleaner than he wanted them, as long as I didn't organize any of his stuff, (since he can never find it after I 'organize' it.) It worked out just fine.

The only other alterations to his space involved making room for my clothes in his closet and replacing his chair with a couch so we could both watch TV on it. We tried to share the overstuffed chair for the first few days, but it always seemed to end in sex. Not that that's bad, but it did make watching the news rather difficult.

What's truly amazing is that the door hasn't been locked behind us a single day. I went out with Liz on Thursday and had dinner without anyone blinking. It's nice to feel like a human being again, even if I'm not one. Dr. Andrews even said that HB could go out, as long as he was careful. We've taken advantage of that a few times, but mostly, we just stay home.

That's where we are now. He's sitting on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table I finally convinced him we needed, and I'm sprawled out with my head on his leg. We've got three TVs on, one with cartoons, another with some action flick Red's seen half a dozen times, and the last with the news. You can bet that I'm the only one watching that one.

We've only had one assignment since we got home, but Red doesn't act like he's bored. I think he's pretty content to just hang out right now, since we had so much packed into one week. I'm with him on that. I think we've earned some time to relax. It's nice not to have any paperwork to do.

I'm trying real hard to pay attention to the world report, but his hand is absently sliding through my hair. It's putting me to sleep. I could drift off, it's not like we have anything else to do today…

My ears perk at a tiny sound, so tiny I think I may have imagined it. Except it comes again, a little louder. I sit up, tilting my head to catch it better, "I think someone's knocking."

"Who knocks?" HB asks, not taking his eyes of his action film.

"I don't know." I get up and go to the door. I hear the minuscule tapping again just before I can disengage the latch. "Hang on, I'm coming."

I try to ignore Red's comment, "There are more fun ways to cum."

"Pervert," I say as I push open the ridiculously heavy door. Even on super-greased gliding hinges, this thing does not want to move.

At first, I don't see anyone or anything in the hall, but it was just because I was looking a little too high. I glance down when another body tackles my waist and find the greatest surprise, "Eon!"

She grins up at me, waving hello. I grab her into a hug and give her a squeeze. I didn't get to spend nearly enough time with her during our farewell, and I'm not going to let her go until I'm good and ready this time. When my excitement passes, I begin to wonder about the how and why. There's no way she got here by herself, even with her superior intellect. She's way too young to just hop a flight to New Jersey so she could drop in on us.

Off to my right, the cats suddenly flee the area. It can only mean one thing (since they seem less inclined to treat me like the plague now). I narrow my eyes and spot the section of air that just doesn't look right.

"Rex, don't you dare eat the cats," I yell at him.

He fluctuates into visibility and hangs his head. Despite being scolded, he still grabs the nearest cat and licks it from one end to the other. It yowls unhappily until HB rescues it. He grabs Rex by what passes as a scruff and glares at him.

"Are the others with you?" I ask, shifting Eon so I can hold her against my hip.

She nods, her auburn curls bouncing like tightly coiled springs, and points down the hall. I don't see them yet, but I can hear Lazarus commenting on our 'digs'. He seems impressed. I don't really have a better word for it, but glee floods my senses. I wasn't ready to let the Society go.

I shoot a grin over my shoulder at HB. He catches my contagious smile, "Go on." It's all the incentive I need to bolt down the hall. Red will catch up.

I grab onto the first person I get to (which happens to be Yvette, but I can only hope that she won't kill me for it) and pull her against me, "I missed you guys!"

To my relief, she doesn't suck the life out of me, "We missed you too wolf boy, and Dr. Andrews."

"You stole him from us, you cheeky-" Lazarus stops himself just before the curse escapes his mouth. Even in jest, he doesn't want to say it in front of Eon. I don't think it would matter too much; I'm sure she picks up more from the television than she does from any of us. She only has to hear something once before she knows it. "Well, you stole him from us."

"But he made everything right here, right?" Torque asks in his molasses voice.

I think the word 'right' wouldn't be giving Dr. Andrews enough credit for what he's done for us. He's made everything phenomenal, or amazing, or wonderful, not just right. I mean, that too, but things haven't been this perfect since before HB's dad left us. Having worked under him (very briefly) and seen the downturn the bureau took after his death, I recognized the difference.

"He's made everything… perfect."

Lazarus drapes his arm over my shoulders, smiling at me, "Then I guess we'll let you keep him. But we need to be able to borrow him from time to time."

"That's fair."

Eon tugs on my shirt for my attention, signing at me once she has it, 'Is Blue here?'

"Of course he is. He's probably in the library," I tell her.

Her green eyes get to be about the size of dinner plates, no exaggerating. 'You have a library here?'

I think about her meager collection of books that the Society had managed to provide to her. Didn't Lazarus tell me that she'd read them all at least a dozen times? I suppose a library the size of the one Professor Bruttenholm collected over his lifetime would be a treasure trove to her. It could keep her occupied for weeks, no… considering how fast her brain works; I'd say it would keep her occupied for a few days, tops. Either way, she'll be extremely excited.

"We do, would you like me to show you?"

Her nod is so vigorous that her curls hit everything in their vicinity.

"Alright." I look at the rest of the team, "Make yourselves at home."

The moment we enter the library, Eon wants down. Her excitement is visible in the way she bounces on her toes, the way she runs her tiny fingers over the tomes she can reach. I've never seen a child so excited about books. She peers at me, her question so obvious that she doesn't have to make a single sign at me.

"You're more than welcome to read any of them, just be careful."

With permission given, she starts pulling a book off the shelf that has to weigh as much as she does. I rush over to help her get it from the shelf to the desk. She climbs into the chair and starts pouring over the book, her feet swinging back and forth like any child having a good day.

Out of pure curiosity, I check the contents: a grimoire from the 16th century, rewritten in French some several hundred years later. Blue has used this one on several occasions. I briefly debate whether she's just looking at the pictures, or if she actually knows French, but there's a good chance she picked up the language somewhere.

"It appears that we have guests," Blue says from the door.

Eon's head snaps up from the book and she signs, 'You live in a library?'

Before I can even wonder how she knew that, she points over at the tank. It's an astute observation, something I wouldn't put past her.

Blue answers her in sign, which makes her smile grow, 'I do. I could think of no better place to reside.'

I want to go check on the others, but I don't want to just leave Abe with a babysitting gig if he's not inclined to stay with her. I know she'll be careful in here, but the grimoire nearly squished her not two minutes ago. She's just a bit overzealous with the books.

He inclines his head towards me, just slightly, and I know his answer. He'll be more than happy to. I kiss the top of Eon's head and leave her to pick Abe's brain, and likewise. Knowing the two of them the way I do, it could be a very long session.

My hunt for the other members of the Society leaves me at the door to Liz's room. She and Yvette are sitting on the edge of the bed, talking about something that stops the second I enter. They both look at me with the classic girl expression that says I've interrupted something not meant for my ears.

"Girl stuff?" I ask, just to make sure.

"Da," Yvette answers as she puts a fresh cigarette in her mouth. "Girl stuff."

Liz holds out a lit finger to get the cigarette started, "But it's not about you."

"You're a guy, you don't need to hear it," Yvette adds.

I lean in the doorframe, marveling at how quickly they became friends. I do wonder if has anything to do with the fact that they're the only women on their respective teams. Maybe it gives them some kind of kindred spirit. Although, it could just be that they're women and estrogen always brings them together to rat on men.

"If I'm gay, do I count as a guy?"

They exchange looks, but no words, still coming to the same answer.

"You still count," they say in unison.

I laugh and back out, leaving them to their 'man bashing'.

It takes me a bit longer to find Torque and Lazarus. They're in the kitchen (not all that shocking). Red's with them, and he and Torque are sitting on opposite sides of the table, a stack of Twinkie boxes beside each of them. As far as I can tell, they're having an eating contest and Lazarus is the referee.

They may both get sick as dogs, but I'm going to let them have their fun. There's not much I could do to stop them anyway. I take a seat against the wall to watch the 'game'.

Hellboy slams down his first empty box with a triumphant grin, "You'll never catch me."

His cocky smile fades as Torque eats four of the spongy, confectionary treats in one go. I think the major thing Torque's got going for him is the fact that his mouth is bigger. Red compensates by digging into the next box with twice the fervor.

Lazarus has taken on an announcer voice and is just narrating the match with an obvious bias towards Torque, "And Hellboy has fallen behind by a box and a half; things are not going so well for the red demon!"

HB points a stone finger at him, yelling around his mouthful of snack cake, "Shut up, Crispy."

He doesn't lose well.

I smile at my family's antics. That's really what they've become, one big, weird family. They're probably the weirdest family I've ever known and ever will ever know. I've been through a lot with them. Somewhere between being an agent and becoming a freak, I learned what it was like to be loved.

As cheesy as that may sound, it's true. You never know real love until someone can look you in the eye, knowing what you are and what you're capable of, and still accept you with open arms. No matter whether I'm a freak, a person, a lover, or a friend, I still belong to this mismatched patchwork of a family.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

The alarm goes off, signaling a paranormal emergency. HB pushes aside the eating contest in favor of checking his ammo supply in the Good Samaritan. He looks over at Torque and Lazarus, a grin on his face, "Wanna' go out and play?"

xxxxxxxxxxxx

End

So, I wanted to thank everyone that stuck with me through this story and those of you that left wonderful reviews time and again. I hope you liked how things turned out.

If any of you are interested in reading more about the Society and their story, I'm hoping to start posting the comics on my page at Deviant Art. The link is available through my author page on Fan Fiction and Adult Fan Fiction.


	13. Updates for Followers

Just to let everyone who's got this story in their update's list, I started a sequel to this one. It's called Between the Lines so go check it out.

TresMaxwell


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